


Miss(ter) Congeniality

by ras_elased



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-03
Updated: 2008-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ras_elased/pseuds/ras_elased
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they're not called pageants, they're called "scholarship programs." After a coalition of fraternities sued the government for equal rights, stating it wasn't fair that pretty girls got to go to college based on their looks without the same benefit for boys, the pageant company was forced to open an 'equal opportunity' all-male pageant. But the backlash was fierce, and now the pageant is receiving threatening letters. They call in the FBI for help, and after assessing the situation, they assign Agent Ackles to go undercover as a pageant contestant. He is less than thrilled with his assignment. Former male model Jared gets hired as the pageant consultant charged with the difficult task of transforming Jensen from rough-around-the-edges FBI agent to GQ coverboy. Between the pampering and strutting and arguing and trying to find a place to conceal his weapon during the swimsuit competition, Jensen starts to realize that they make a good team, and maybe more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/profile)[**abouttwoboys**](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/) J2/SPN fic challenge. The prompt I chose was to remix the movie [Miss Congeniality](http://imdb.com/title/tt0212346/). (obviously *g*) I reworked it a little bit, but the general plot and any lines you recognize are taken from the film. You can also [download](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=WGAUYCSZ) the song mentioned in the fic. (MegaUpload link, but I can upload it somewhere else by request.)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[fandom: cw rps](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3A%20cw%20rps), [fic: miss(ter) congeniality](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20miss%28ter%29%20congeniality), [genre: au](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20au), [genre: crack](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20crack), [genre: humor](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20humor), [genre: prompt/challenge response](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20prompt%2Fchallenge%20response), [genre: romance](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20romance), [pairing: jared/jensen](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20jared%2Fjensen), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
---|---  
  
  
Title: Miss(ter) Congeniality  
Author: Ras Elased  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Jared/Jensen  
Word count: ~23,000  
Author's notes: This was written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/profile)[**abouttwoboys**](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/) J2/SPN fic challenge. The prompt I chose was to remix the movie [Miss Congeniality](http://imdb.com/title/tt0212346/). (obviously *g*) I reworked it a little bit, but the general plot and any lines you recognize are taken from the film. You can also [download](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=WGAUYCSZ) the song mentioned in the fic. (MegaUpload link, but I can upload it somewhere else by request.)  
Warnings: Boykissing, RPS, mild crack, non-CW guest stars, some damn lucky gummy bears, shameless bathroom porn, filk, and unbeta'd.

Summary: So they're not called pageants, they're called "scholarship programs." After a coalition of fraternities sued the government for equal rights, stating it wasn't fair that pretty girls got to go to college based on their looks without the same benefit for boys, the pageant company was forced to open an 'equal opportunity' all-male pageant. But the backlash was fierce, and now the pageant is receiving threatening letters. They call in the FBI for help, and after assessing the situation, they assign Agent Ackles to go undercover as a pageant contestant. He is less than thrilled with his assignment. Former male model Jared gets hired as the pageant consultant charged with the difficult task of transforming Jensen from rough-around-the-edges FBI agent to GQ coverboy. Between the pampering and strutting and arguing and trying to find a place to conceal his weapon during the swimsuit competition, Jensen starts to realize that they make a good team, and maybe more.

  
  


_   
**Miss(ter) Congeniality, (1/3)**   
_

  
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* * *

**NETWORK FINALLY EARNS THE CROWN**

San Antonio, TX – _After a firestorm of legal battles and bidding wars, a network has emerged victorious from the slew of contenders vying for the legal rights to broadcast the first ever Mr. United States pageant. The CW will be airing the final night of the week-long competition live from the Alamo in San Antonio. The station known for such shows as "America's Next Top Model" and "Crowned" seems like the most obvious choice to air the world's first all male beauty pageant, but the decision wasn't easy. The owner of the pageant's parent company, Miss United States, Incorporated, reportedly chose to accept the network's bid only after it offered to front the rather large security costs._

The pageant was initially conceived as part of a settlement when a coalition of college fraternities sued the pageant company, claiming there was no similar scholarship program for males. But what was meant to be a bid for equal rights has created what some might term a cultural backlash. The pageant has received dozens of threatening letters in the last several weeks, most of which have been identified as being from a single suspect who remains anonymous. Concerned for the safety of the contestants, the pageant director has called in the federal government for added protection.

When questioned about what the FBI was doing to help, Assistant Director Jeffrey Dean Morgan commented, "While I think most of the country is proud that America takes freedom and equality so seriously, it's clear that there is a small contingent who would make this pageant a target. I've got my best people working on it, but I'm afraid that's all I can say."

* * *

Jensen snapped the case file shut with a disgusted sigh. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"You didn't," Sandy said sweetly, blandly turning a page in her magazine. "I kicked your ass and made you do it." Agent Sandy McCoy was Jensen's partner and perpetual pain in his ass. Tiny and perky, she wasn't exactly your typical FBI agent, but then again, neither was Jensen. There weren't a whole lot of other gay field agents in Dallas.

He clenched his jaw and sighed. "Yeah, well, you only won because you fight dirty. And you have sharp teeth." She flashed him a bright smile, displaying the weapons in question, before turning back to her fashion mag. Jensen slid his reading glasses from his nose and tossed them onto the airplane seat across from him, followed by the case file. The last twenty four hours had been something of a whirlwind for Jensen. He'd been given the worst undercover assignment of his life, bludgeoned into accepting it by his partner, then hastily shoved on a private federal jet bound for San Antonio before he could change his mind. Once they'd arrived he'd been stuck on the plane, just sitting in the runway outside some government warehouse, apparently waiting for their contact to grace them with his presence. Jensen huffily grabbed his glasses and the file again, then flipped it open, reading off of the name of the man who'd kept them waiting for the past hour. Jared Pada…Pada-something-unpronouncable. "Who is this Jared guy, anyway?"

Sandy looked at him, wide-eyed and scandalized. "You're joking, right?" Met only with Jensen's blank, irritated glare, she thrust her magazine inches away from Jensen's face, pointing emphatically at a man on the cover. "It's _Jared Padalecki,_" she said, like he was the second coming.

Jensen raised a skeptical eyebrow and nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at the picture. The guy was gorgeous, he had to admit that. Long limbs, bright smile, hair that looked so soft Jensen's fingers itched to run through it. Too bad he looked just like every other guy who'd ever given Jensen the brush off since high school. "Doesn't ring any bells," he said.

Sandy rolled her eyes. "You are the most fashion _un_conscious gay man I've ever met," she grumbled, blindly opening the magazine in front of Jensen's face and expertly flipping to a double-page spread of Jared smiling at the camera. "He used to be a male model, but now he owns his own cosmetics company, designer fragrances and stuff. There's even been talk about him getting his own reality show on the CW, something about makeovers or male runway models or something, I think." She turned the magazine back around and looked at it herself, uttering a dreamy sigh. "My god, that man is pretty."

Jensen let his face fall into his hands and groaned. His day really couldn't get any worse. At least now he understood why Sandy had pushed so hard for him to take this assignment. "You mean I'm stuck going undercover in a _male beauty pageant_ just so you can get your hands on some shameless pretty boy?"

"Ah, you must be talking about me." Jensen's head whipped around at the unfamiliar voice to find Jared had arrived and was sauntering casually towards them down the aisle. Jensen's reflex desire to make a thinly veiled comment about professionalism and punctuality got caught in his throat. Jared looked like some kind of greek god, backlit by the sunlight streaming in through the open door behind the cockpit, dressed in shades, a pink button down shirt rolled up to the elbows, and white pants that made his legs look impossibly long. He flashed Jensen a smile fit for a toothpaste commercial, and Jensen kind of wanted to smack those ridiculous dimples right off his face.

"Oh my god," Sandy whispered a little breathlessly, and Jensen shot her a sidelong glance, involuntarily curling his lip in a sneer. As he watched with increasing horror, she seemed to physically shake herself out of her daze and stood to greet the man. Jensen reluctantly followed suit, and Sandy held out her hand with an embarrassingly enthusiastic smile. "Mr. Padalecki, sir, this is such an honor."

Jared deftly removed the shades and flashed another blinding grin. "If we're gonna be working together, you should just call me Jared," he said warmly, shaking Sandy's hand with a wink.

"Well then, you can call me Sandy," she giggled—honest to god _giggled_—and Jensen didn't even bother to hide his eyeroll. He cleared his throat. Loudly. "And, um, this is my partner, Jensen," she recovered.

Jensen shook Jared's hand with a curt nod, feeling that _somebody_ needed to be the consummate professional in this situation, and also showing that there was at least one person on this assignment immune to Jared's instant charm. If Jensen let the handshake continue for a fraction longer than was strictly professional, it was only because he'd been surprised by the way Jared's hand nearly dwarfed his own.

As soon as the introductions were completed, Jensen and Sandy took their seats and Jared collapsed back into the spot facing them. He sprawled across both seats, kicking his feet over the armrests and dangling them into the aisle. Government jets were spacious, but apparently they weren't spacious enough for all seventeen feet of Jared's lanky frame. "So, one of your agents already briefed me on the assignment. When do I get to meet the undercover pageant guy?"

Jensen blinked, and Sandy cleared her throat. "Yeah, that'd be me," Jensen grumbled.

Jared's grin widened and he let out a sharp bark of laughter, then just as suddenly the grin fell for the first time since Jared had entered the plane. He shot an incredulous look at Sandy, then said, "Wait, you're serious?"

Jensen felt a sudden, oppressive urge to melt into his seat. He had never really paid much attention to his appearance, mostly because he felt it was a waste of time. So, maybe Jensen didn't always shave every morning, or get his hair cut on a regular basis, or always remember to find matching socks, but those seemed like pretty trivial things when he was busy chasing down bad guys day and night.

Jared sat up straight and looked at Jensen, his expression grim. Jensen knew what Jared was seeing, he saw the same thing in the mirror every morning, and he didn't think it was really cause for Jared to look like he was witnessing a train wreck in slow motion. Jensen's suit was rumpled and untucked, and there were mustard stains on his tie from when he'd grabbed a burger before boarding the plane. He hadn't shaved in three days, his hair was smashed down on one side of his head from the last time he'd slept, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Jared cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look, no offense man, but you look like you just came off of a three day stake out."

Jensen glared. "That's because I did." He didn't mention the fact that this look was pretty much the standard for him anyway, minus the mustard stains on his tie. Okay, so maybe the mustard stains weren't exactly an exception to his standard ensemble.

Jared leaned forward towards Jensen, examining him with way too much interest. Jensen might have enjoyed the close up view of Jared if he hadn't felt like an amoeba under a microscope. "Hmm," Jared said, tapping his chin. After a few seconds, Jared reached out and plucked the glasses off of Jensen's face. "Gorgeous eyes," he said, and Jensen felt heat creep up his face despite his best efforts. "The glasses have to go," he continued. "The freckles work for me, but it's hard to tell them apart from your giant pores. And you're way too pale. Your hair looks like it hasn't been cut in ages, and the shaggy look just doesn't do it for me. Your teeth need whitening, you could use a shave and some serious exfoliation, and we'll definitely have to do something about those potato sacks you call clothes." Hopping up from his place in front of Jensen, Jared smiled and offered Jensen a hand up. "Looks like we've got some work to do. It's a good thing I brought my team."

Jensen scowled and grudgingly followed Jared out of the airplane, Sandy following close behind. "Wait, you have a _team?_" Jensen's question was answered as soon as he stepped out of the plane. The doors to the government warehouse slid open, but instead of a team of secret government agents, a pink-clad swarm flowed from the doors with a noisy, excited chatter.

Jensen couldn't help but gawk. "Where did you find all these people?"

Jared quirked a smile. "Uh, hello? Owner of my own cosmetics company?"

"Oh, right." Jensen frowned as the army of beauticians drew nearer. He could go undercover on a mob sting without blinking an eye, but a petite blonde armed with a nose hair trimmer had him taking a hasty step back.

Jensen swallowed, hard. He was going to kill Sandy.

***

Around the fourth hour of Jensen's torture, he was sure he was about to crack. He had been poked and prodded, highlighted and cut, spray tanned and exfoliated to within an inch of his life. He'd had people in his face all day, stylists and dentists and optometrists, and the tailor got a little too friendly when taking his measurements. And the entire time, Jared was there, inescapable as he hovered in the background, towering at least a head over everyone and calling out instructions to anyone in a pink uniform. Jensen finally came up for air around lunch time, wearing a cotton bathrobe and a moisturizing mask that felt oddly like he'd just shoved his face in a vat of quick drying cement. He spied the catering table they'd set up to feed the small army and quickly made his way there.

"Oh, thank god," he groaned over the rumbling of his stomach. He grabbed a donut in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He was so hungry he had almost eaten the cucumbers they put on his eyes.

Jensen didn't even have time to bring the donut towards his mouth before Jared was suddenly there, inescapable, deftly swapping out the donut in Jensen's hand with a celery stick. Jensen glared at the offending vegetable, then turned his glare on the man who was steadily earning the title of Most Annoying Person Ever. "What the hell is this?" Jensen asked.

"Lunch," Jared answered, taking a bite of Jensen's donut. "You need to start eating right. No more junk food."

"Look who's talking!" Jensen scoffed. "Don't think I haven't seen you stuffing your face with enough candy to put a normal person in a diabetic coma!"

"That's different," Jared said with a grin. "I'm a growing boy, but you don't need to be growing anymore." He poked Jensen in his _very slightly_ fleshy stomach for emphasis.

Jensen felt his lips purse and his eyebrows shoot upwards. "Are you calling me _fat?_"

Jared grinned amiably around another mouthful of donut and said, "If the cellulite fits…"

"I'll have you know I'm in excellent physical condition!" Jensen retaliated, pointing his celery stalk at Jared like a weapon. "I run five miles every morning! I lift weights! I eat right! I eat plenty of healthy stuff!"

Without a word, Jared let his assessing gaze travel down the length of Jensen's body. Jensen didn't exactly have the cut physique of a body builder, but something about the way Jared was looking at him had him resisting the urge to puff out his chest, just a little. Jared's eyes wandered back up to lock with Jensen's, a smug expression on his face like he'd just figured out a secret. He took a single step forward into Jensen's personal space, and Jensen's brain nearly stuttered to a halt. Jared was so close Jensen could feel the heat radiating off his skin and smell his aftershave, like spice and mint. Jared's eyes never wavered as Jensen felt one of Jared's hands slide into the pocket of Jensen's bathrobe, and Jensen's breath hitched. Jared smiled and…withdrew a bag of gummy bears from Jensen's pocket.

"Healthy," Jared deadpanned. "Right."

Jensen's mutinous brain took a few extra seconds to catch up, and he realized with an embarrassed little start that he was staring at Jared's mouth. Scowling, Jensen crossed his arms over in chest and took a defensive step back. "Okay," he reluctantly admitted, "So maybe I indulge occasionally."

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery," Jared replied solemnly, then stuffed the bag into his own pocket.

"Hey!" Jensen objected. "That's my emergency stash!"

"Not anymore," Jared said, then plucked the cup from Jensen's fingers. "And no more coffee for you, either. You're kinda high strung. Now hurry up and finish your lunch." Jared spared a pointed glance for the celery stalk as he started to make his exit. "Then we can start picking out your new wardrobe."

Jensen looked around at the milling crowd fit for a Pepto Bismol commercial, and was suddenly very certain he didn't want Jared picking out his clothes. "I'm not wearing pink!" he shouted at Jared's retreating back. He watched Jared saunter off with Jensen's gummy bears, and Jensen was so incensed he almost missed the rather ominous announcement over the loudspeakers.

"All hair removal units, please report to sector one."

By the time Jensen was finished getting his chest waxed, he decided they needed to update the Geneva conventions. Getting all of your hair ripped out of your skin was definitely a crime against humanity.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Jared sat Jensen down in a dentist's chair, turned a spotlight on his face, and pulled out a messenger bag covered with pockets and rather complicated-looking zippers. Jensen got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Dude, I draw the line at wearing _makeup_."

Jared rolled his eyes and began rifling through the pockets. "If you go onstage without makeup, people are going to mistake you for an albino. You might as well get used to wearing it. Now shut up and suck in your cheeks." Jensen sullenly and reluctantly made a fish face. "Not like that," Jared corrected. "Like you're giving a blowjob."

Jensen nearly fell out of the chair. "Excuse me?" he sputtered, turning so red he felt like his face was on fire. "I didn't—How did you—?"

"Relax," Jared sounded amused. "I'm guessing my gaydar is apparently a bit more functional than yours."

It took Jensen's shell-shocked brain a moment to digest that comment. When it registered, Jensen decided that all the pink and the makeup and stuff probably should have tipped him off, but Jensen wasn't looking for any kind of relationship right now, so it had kind of slipped past him. And it's not like Jared would be interested even if Jensen _was_, so it didn't really make any difference.

"I've never met a gay FBI agent before," Jared continued absently, still rifling through his supplies. "Well, not that I've ever met any FBI agents before at all, but you know what I mean. Hey, would you consider yourself more of a 'warm ivory' or a 'cool linen'?" He held up two seemingly identical bottles of flesh-colored makeup, and Jensen couldn't help but boggle at him.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't seriously just ask me that."

"Fine," Jared huffed, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Using the tips of his fingers, Jared started smearing the cool makeup over his cheekbones. "Just make a blowjob face and we can get this over with."

Cringing inwardly, Jensen formed his mouth into a perfect O, stretching his cheeks taught. And out of everything Jensen had been forced to endure all day, nothing quite compared to the torment of lying there, feeling Jared touch his face and thinking about blowjobs.

Finally, it was over. Jensen had been pampered, preened, scrubbed, whitened, polished, tinted, and groped for the last time. He'd been stuffed into a pair of designer jeans that sat low on his hips and a long sleeved forest green shirt that was way tighter than anything he would normally wear. The outer doors slid open and Jensen stepped into the bright Texas sunshine. It was too warm for the jacket Jared had given him, so he tossed it over his shoulder. The sea of pink parted, revealing the waiting caravan of black SUVs and Sandy gaping at him with her jaw hanging open. "Whoa. Jensen, is…is that you?"

Jensen didn't even look at her as he stomped right past her towards the SUV. "I'm exhausted, starving, I have gel in my hair, my contacts itch, and I just spent the last seven hours with the Joseph Stalin of the fashion world. Next time you volunteer me for an undercover assignment, remind me to just shoot myself and avoid the pain."

"Aha! It _is_ you. I'd recognize that bitchiness anywhere. Nice work, Jared!"

Jensen huffed and opened the car door as he heard Jared respond, "Thanks, but a painter's only as good as his canvas, and Jensen gave me a lot to work with."

That made Jensen pause, then hazard a glance back over his shoulder. He caught and held Jared's gaze for a moment, feeling a little off balance. A slow grin spread over Jared's face, and he continued, "Though I am just that damn good, if I do say so myself."

Jensen groaned and turned away, the moment gone. Still, as he settled into the backseat of the SUV and resigned himself to his fate, he couldn't shake the odd, tingly sensation that had taken hold of his gut.

***

Jensen fiddled with his sash, feeling ridiculous at the thought of having 'Mr. Texas' emblazoned across his chest every day for the next week. But Sandy had assured him that everyone else at the orientation was going to be wearing them too, so he felt marginally less stupid.

Jensen entered the ballroom and felt his eyes nearly bug out of his head. Everywhere he looked were men. Lots and lots of really, _really_ attractive men. Jensen got nervous enough around one hot guy, how the hell was he supposed to manage fifty of them? It was practically pavlovian the way his palms started sweating, his mouth went dry, his heart started hammering in his chest louder and louder and louder…

"Jensen!" Sandy's tinny voice rang through his concealed earpiece. "Stop gawking at all the pretty boys."

Jensen scowled, but stayed frozen in his spot in the doorway. "I'm not gawking," he whispered, knowing that the tiny microphone and camera were transmitting everything back to Sandy in the surveillance van. "I'm surveying the layout of the room to assess potential threats and escape routes."

Sandy snorted. "Liar. Oh, hey, try to get seated next to Mr. California. Rowr."

Jensen rolled his eyes. "Speaking of gawking, behave yourself or the camera might _accidentally_ malfunction." Jensen casually brushed some invisible lint from his clothes, resting a finger over the American flag pin camera on his lapel and blocking her view.

Sandy's gasp transmitted loud and clear over the radio. "You wouldn't dare!"

He smiled reluctantly and dropped his hand. "You're right, bad idea. Without the man buffet as a distraction you'd probably just run off into the arms of the gummy bear Nazi. Maybe you could exchange makeup tips late into the night."

"Hmm, that's not a bad idea," Sandy replied, thoughtful.

Jensen sighed. "Listen, Sandy, I hate to break it to you but…let's just say Jared is more likely to date _me_ than you."

"Especially now that you're a hottie," she replied distractedly, and then said, "Wait, you think I want to _date_ him?" Sandy let out an explosive burst of laughter that made Jensen flinch and his eardrum ring. A waiter gave him a strange look, and Jensen moved closer to the corner of the room.

Jensen spoke over her raucous laughter. "Well, don't you?"

"Jensen," she managed once she had finally pulled herself together enough to speak, "I may enjoy ogling that man's many, _many_ fine qualities, but I knew he was gay before we even met him!"

Jensen blinked. "You did?"

"Uh, _yeah_," Sandy answered in a tone like it should be absurdly obvious, and that clearly Jensen had been dropped on his head as a child. And okay, Jensen was an FBI agent, his job was to profile people, so he really should have seen it, but he was man enough to admit that he was maybe a little distracted when he'd first met Jared. Suddenly, Sandy's rushed voice interrupted his thoughts. "Look out, Dragon Lady, three o'clock."

At Sandy's warning Jensen looked sharply to the right and noticed the two hosts of the pageant striding towards him. From an objective standpoint, Jensen could see why the network had hired Fabio as a cohost, but Shannon Doherty was just scary. He knew they'd been briefed about his undercover status along with the network and pageant directors, but Shannon had a very pinched look on her face, so he drew himself to his full height and offered up his friendliest 'calm the civilians' grin. Before he could even utter so much as a hello, she was leaning into his space with a tight, thin-lipped smile.

"You're the FBI agent they sent to protect us?" she said sharply, giving him a dismissive once-over.

"Uh," Jensen raised an eyebrow at her tone. "Yes, ma'am?" It came out sounding like a question rather than an answer.

"Mmm," she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Well, unless your plan is to draw the freaks to you, maybe you should be doing something besides standing in the corner and talking to yourself like a deranged psycho." Jensen's eyebrows shot up, and Sandy was mysteriously quiet in his ear. "This is a very important event, so try not to screw it up." With that, Shannon spun on her very expensive heels and snapped her fingers like a command. "Come on, Fabio," she said, not even looking back as she strode away.

"It was very nice meeting you," Fabio said with a bright, if somewhat vacant smile. He gave a little fist-pump into the air and said, "Go America!"

"FABIO!"

They both flinched at her impatient screech, but then Fabio shrugged, smiling a little less brightly as he followed after her.

Jensen watched them go in stunned silence. After a moment, he heard Sandy mutter a quiet, "Wow. What a bitch." A waiter passed by and Jensen instantly grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it quickly. He deserved hazard pay for this.

Jensen nearly jumped out of his skin when an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind him. "You're gonna need something a lot stronger than champagne if you plan to make it through this week." Jensen turned towards the speaker and came face to face with a man nearly as tall as Jared, wearing a sash that read "Kansas" over his broad shoulders. He had black hair, bright blue eyes and a square jaw that sported dimples and a wry grin. Jensen might have found him attractive, if he hadn't been so focused on the silver hip flask the guy was offering.

Jensen didn't care that he was technically 'on duty.' There was no way he could put up with a bunch of stuck-up, brainless, nauseatingly pretty guys without a serious buzz going. He gladly accepted the flask and downed a healthy swallow. Of course, it was at that point that Sandy decided to remind him of her presence with a low wolf whistle and a sultry, "Hel-_loooo_, Kansas."

Jensen choked on the whiskey. It went spraying everywhere and dribbling down his chin. He was already wiping it off with his shirtsleeve when he heard Sandy groan in his ear, "Smooth, Ackles," and he realized that it probably made him look like even more of an uncouth yokel. He hastily handed the flask back to the guy with a muttered, "Um, thanks."

"No problem. You looked like you could use it after your run in with the Devil Who Wears Knock-off Prada." The guy motioned to the stage, where Shannon was yelling at the sound guys. "Name's Tom. Tom Welling," he said, offering his hand for Jensen to shake. "But you can call me Kansas. And you'd better get used to everyone calling you Texas." He draped one arm over Jensen's shoulders and guided him towards the tables. "C'mon, I'll introduce you around."

As Jensen allowed himself to be led, he felt some of his tension ease. Tom seemed like a normal guy, so maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He could at least attempt some small talk, try to blend in a little better. "So," he began, "what's your talent?"

"Batons," Tom replied with a disturbingly manic grin. "_Flaming_ batons."

Jensen groaned inwardly. He needed another drink.

***

Jensen was tired. And hungry. And annoyed. And thank god he wasn't armed right now, because he would seriously kill for a cheeseburger and a nap.

"No, no, no. You're doing it all wrong! Try it again."

Jensen growled and refused to budge. "I've been walking my entire life, Jared. I'm pretty sure I'm doing it right."

"You're not walking, Quasimodo, you're schlumping," Jared replied, digging through his man purse.

"That's not even a real word," Jensen grumbled, but Jared ignored him as he withdrew a handful of ties for Jensen's suit.

"You can't walk with your shoulders hunched over like that, like you're afraid somebody's gonna see you. You need to walk like you _want_ people to see you. Now try it again. Stand up straight. Relax your shoulders. Lift your chin. Okay, not that much. Take lighter steps; you sound like Godzilla trampling Tokyo."

"I think I'm beginning to understand why those runway models look so pissed off all the time," Jensen muttered under his breath.

Jared sighed and beckoned Jensen over with a wave of his hand. "Nevermind, we'll work on it later. Let me take a look at your outfit."

Jared held up several ties to test them against the charcoal grey of Jensen's suit jacket, and Jensen eyed the multicolored lot dubiously. "Dude, I thought I made myself clear. _No pink._"

Jared just raised an eyebrow, dropped all the other ties and started looping the pink tie around Jensen's neck. Jensen narrowed his eyes and tried not to feel the way Jared's fingers brushed against the skin above his collar. "So," Jared said as he tied a perfect Windsor, "what were you planning for your talent? Sharpshooting? Hand to hand combat? Maybe a striptease?"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I'll do whatever you want me to do, Yoda."

Jared froze. "Oh my god," he groaned, then turned and started stalking away. "Sandy!" he called, making a beeline for the catering table, where Sandy was undoubtedly stuffing her face just to spite Jensen. "Sandy, Jensen has no talent!"

Sandy paused in the midst of downing a cup of chocolate pudding. "Geez, Jared, you don't need to shout that out right in front of him."

Jensen decided to let that one slide. "He means I don't have a performance lined up for the talent competition," he explained pointedly.

"Oh. Right. I, uh, may have forgotten to mention that Jensen kind of has horrible stagefright," Sandy cringed. "He gets all pale and whiny just from having to speak in front of the department. I figured we could just skip the whole talent thing."

Jensen was totally on board with that plan.

"What? No, you can't skip it!" Jared protested.

"Why not?" Jensen shot back. "I mean, the competition's fixed, right? I've been guaranteed complete stage access, so I'm automatically in the top five. Congratulations to me. What does it matter if I just hang out backstage that day and claim technical difficulties screwed with my performance?"

"The talent competition accounts for thirty percent of your overall score, Jensen. People are gonna notice if you call in sick that day, then miraculously show up in the winner's circle!"

"Okay," Sandy said, holding up her hands in a calming gesture. "So, we'll just have to come up with something, then. Preferably something that won't involve Jensen passing out as soon as he sets foot onstage."

Jensen glared at Sandy. "Y'know, that hand-to-hand combat idea is starting to look appealing. Wanna volunteer?"

"Sure, if you want to have your ass handed to you in front of the judges," Sandy countered sweetly.

"There must be something you can do," Jared said. "Can you juggle? Do card tricks? Make balloon animals?"

"I'm a federal agent, not an entertainer at four-year-old birthday parties," Jensen scowled.

"You can tie cherry stems with your tongue," Sandy supplied helpfully.

"I once knew a girl back home who could milk a cow in under thirty seconds," Jared added.

"Dude?!" Jensen finally shouted, somewhere between appalled and impressed.

Jared shrugged helplessly. "You have to have a talent, Jensen. You can't get up there and eat your own weight in gummy bears if you expect to be taken seriously."

"Oh, and the cow thing is so much more dignified," Jensen deadpanned. "Look, there is _one_ thing that I can do pretty well, but I just…I've never really done it in public."

There was a beat of silence, then Jared's eyes went wide as saucers. "You're not having sex on this stage!"

"_Dude!_" Jensen shouted again, this time edging all the way toward appalled. "I was talking about singing!"

Then it was Sandy's turn for her eyes to go wide. "Seriously? I mean…_seriously?_" Jensen was suddenly very nervous. The last time she'd looked that happy had been when she'd dropped this assignment in his lap.

"I, uh…well, I don't have my guitar," Jensen hesitantly backpedaled.

"I'm on it," she announced, practically running backwards out of the door. "You two keep up the good work. I'll take care of it. By the way," she added with a motion towards Jensen's tie, "pink looks good on you."

***

Jared had Jensen working for a few more hours after that. Jared kept correcting him, adjusting his clothes or posture, and all the touching wasn't exactly improving Jensen's already sour mood. By the time they'd moved on to the practice interviews, Jensen was so frustrated that if he got one more whiff of Jared's shampoo he was either going to throttle the guy or jump him, and he honestly didn't know which idea sounded more appealing at the moment.

Even Jared's usual annoyingly upbeat personality seemed to be wearing down. Jared was slouched in a chair on the opposite side of the stage, long legs splayed wide, flipping through some official-looking notecards with sharp movements colored by his mild irritation. And okay, maybe Jensen hadn't exactly been the most cooperative student, but it was after midnight. Jared apparently had no problem coasting by on pixie stix and Red Bull, but Jensen needed his sleep.

Jared paused in his flipping and raised an eyebrow at Jensen. "Maybe your talent should be looking perpetually constipated."

"Excuse me?"

"Just saying you should smile more, Jensen. I like the way it makes your eyes crinkle." Jensen was a little floored by the random comment, so he scowled deeper. Jared rolled his eyes dramatically. "For god's sake, it's just a few simple questions, not an interrogation."

"I think I'd feel more comfortable in an interrogation," Jensen muttered. Jared just huffed a little, blowing the hair out of his face. Jensen thought it made him look like a petulant little kid, and he slid a little closer to the "jump him" option before swinging back towards "throttle him." No one should be allowed to look that adorable, especially when that person insisted on holding Jensen hostage late into the night and refusing to let him anywhere near the coffee machine. "Can we just get this over with?"

Jared continued fiddling with his note cards, considering his choices, but eventually he seemed to decide on one and read, "Why do you want to be Mr. United States?"

Jensen pasted on a sardonic smile. "Because it's always been my secret dream to be king of the metrosexuals."

"Would you at least try to take this seriously?" Jared replied, his frustration showing through.

"Why should I?" Jensen shot back. "This is _pointless_, Jared. I _don't_ want to win this thing! What do I care what a bunch of stuck up snobs think about my looks? It doesn't affect how I do my _job._ I'm an FBI agent, not a trained monkey in a suit."

"You're also a person, Jensen, and you have a life that's passing you by," Jared replied, rising to his feet. "Don't you care about having friends? Relationships?"

"I have friends!" Jensen replied defensively, and it sounded lame even to him.

"Really?" Jared crossed his arms over his chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "When's the last time you even went on a date?" Jensen opened his mouth to reply, but Jared raised a finger to stop him. "And I'm not talking about somebody that Sandy set you up with," he added.

Jensen snapped his mouth shut and thought about it. He didn't like the answer. Feeling embarrassment and anger rise in his chest, he said, "Hey, not all of us are like you, Jared! We can't just snap our fingers and call up a harem. I have my job, and I'm good at it."

"That's _all_ you have," Jared replied, his voice rising. "You spend all your time chasing down criminals and no time going after the things that _you_ want."

Jensen felt his face burn in resentment at the thought that Jared would presume to know so much about his life. "Oh that's rich, coming from you," he spat, voice low. "You've probably never had to ask for anything in your charmed little life. You have everything you could possibly want. Celebrity friends, a successful business, a line of guys around the block just _waiting_ for a chance to go on a date with the great Jared Padalecki. When have you _ever_ had to take a risk?" Jensen watched Jared's face pale as his words hit their mark. "So why don't you just lay off, alright? You have no idea why I am the way that I am!"

Jared's hands were clenching the note cards tightly, crushing them against his giant palms. "Well as long as we're practicing interviews, why are you the way that you are?" he replied, an angry edge creeping into his voice.

And that right there was the final straw. It was asking too much, and Jensen was already holding on to the last vestiges of his temper by a fine thread. "It's none of your damn business," he growled, then practically leapt up and brushed past Jared on his way out.

But Jensen wasn't fast enough, and Jared managed to grab his shoulder as he passed. "Hey, where are you going? We have more to do here!"

Before Jensen had even realized he'd moved, he had Jared slammed up against a wall, his hand fisted in Jared's t-shirt. "No. We're done." His voice was level, but his eyes were furiously locked with Jared's.

Jared's gaze didn't waver, but the fight had gone out of his eyes. "Yeah, okay man. We're done." Jared's tone was calm and soothing, like Jensen was a spooked horse. He placed one hand over Jensen's, and Jensen watched as his hand instinctively relaxed under Jared's to splay his palm flat over Jared's chest. He was instantly aware of how warm Jared's skin was underneath the fabric of his shirt, and he could feel the flutter of Jared's heartbeat against his fingers.

Jensen sucked in a breath and pushed away in a rush. He didn't even look at Jared as he left, all too aware of the flash in his belly that he couldn't quite brush off as adrenaline from the fight. Finding Jared attractive was one thing—a blind man would've found Jared attractive—but _being_ attracted to Jared…Well, that was one giant can of worms that Jensen didn't want to investigate too closely. Down that road lay madness and heartache, and wasn't that just what Jensen needed to complete this farce?

Jensen's life may not have been perfect, but ever since taking this assignment, he'd felt completely off balance, like an outsider in his own life. Being the only openly gay agent in the hetero-heavy boys' club meant Jensen knew something about being just outside the inner circle, but this was different. Jensen had always been able to console himself with the fact that he was good at his job, but now he felt like he didn't even have that anymore. He could investigate crimes, he could catch criminals, but this…this wasn't anything he could handle.

With a final nod to himself, Jensen headed back to the hotel and straight to Sandy's room. After all, this whole thing was her fault, anyway.

***

Jensen pounded on Sandy's door for several long minutes. When it finally swung open, Sandy still seemed half asleep, her droopy eyelids and bed head making her look kind of adorable. It was almost enough for Jensen to forget he was pissed at her. "Jensen? What are you doing here? It's after one."

"I know," Jensen snapped dully. "I just came by to let you know I'm quitting. Have a nice life."

Jensen turned to go, but was abruptly yanked back into Sandy's room by the back of his collar. Slamming the door, then slamming Jensen _into_ the door, she looked up at him with a fierce gaze originating from about the middle of his chest and said, "Excuse me? What the hell did you just say?"

It was surprisingly intimidating, coming from such a tiny girl, but Jensen just jutted out his chin and repeated, "I quit. I'm through. I don't feel like an agent anymore, Sandy! I feel like a joke! What were you even thinking when you volunteered me for this assignment? I can't do this anymore, and I won't."

Sandy backed down a little, and her expression morphed from outrage to suspicion. "Does this have anything to do with Jared?"

"Ugh. Can you just forget about Jared for one second, please?" Jensen growled, tamping down the urge to scrub a hand through his hair and start pulling. "I tell you I'm quitting, and all you can talk about is Jared Fucking Padalecki!"

"Okay," Sandy said slowly, putting her hands on her hips and still staring at Jensen with fire in her eyes. "So, are you going to tell me what happened between the two of you, or do I have to wait while you freak out and yell at me some more?"

"That's not—Why are you—You wouldn't believe some of the things he said to me in there! They were so—so—" Jensen huffed a little and slumped against the door, the wind abruptly taken from his sales. "So true."

There was a long pause while Jensen just looked at the floor, and then Sandy gently placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "Hey," she said softly. "You want to know why I volunteered you for this assignment?"

"Lost a bet?"

"Because you are the most stubborn son of a bitch that I know, and you never would have accepted a makeover if it wasn't forced on you by bureaucrats and documented in triplicate." While Jensen boggled a little at her answer, she continued, "Seriously, Jensen. You're a great person, underneath the attitude and the tacky suits, and you need to stop hiding it because of some misplaced fear of rejection. You need to come out of your shell, because if you gave people a chance to see the real you, then they couldn't help but love you."

For a long time, Jensen was quiet, just mulling over her words. Finally, his lips curled into a hesitant smile. "Sometimes I forget you were a psych major in college."

Sandy smirked back. "With a headcase like you for a partner, I like to consider it a survival skill."

***  


[Part 2](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/12635.html)


	2. Miss(ter) Congeniality, (2/3)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[fandom: cw rps](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3A%20cw%20rps), [fic: miss(ter) congeniality](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20miss%28ter%29%20congeniality), [genre: au](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20au), [genre: crack](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20crack), [genre: humor](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20humor), [genre: prompt/challenge response](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20prompt%2Fchallenge%20response), [genre: romance](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20romance), [pairing: jared/jensen](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20jared%2Fjensen), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
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When Jared finally managed to track Jensen down, he found him in the hotel gym. The place was deserted this late in the night—or early in the morning—and Jensen enjoyed the solitude. He was able to focus on his breathing, on the steady beat of his footfalls, until all his other frustrations faded into the background. It was a good place for Jensen to think, and he had a lot on his mind.

He had been running on the treadmill for quite some time. Sweat was dripping from his flushed face and hair, and his shirt was soaked and clinging to his chest and back. Jensen heard the soft click of the door as Jared entered the gym, but he gave no indication of it, just kept pounding away at the treadmill.

Jared stood there for a while, and Jensen watched him from the corner of his eye. Jared looked nervous, his hands tucked in his pockets and his eyes glued to the side of Jensen's head. When he finally spoke, it wasn't quite what Jensen had been expecting.

"I'm broke."

Jensen didn't bother to check the quizzical look he shot Jared's way. Jared's mouth worked itself into an uncomfortable-looking grimace, then he answered Jensen's silent question. "I lost my company. My partner sold it behind my back. He just—I guess there was some clause in my contract or something. I didn't get any of the money. If I hadn't taken this job—" he trailed off abruptly when he realized Jensen had stopped the treadmill and was just watching him. "Look, I'm…I'm not normally like this, but I just didn't want to screw this up. It seems like that's all I can do lately. So, I'm sorry I screwed this up, too."

Jensen waited, and when it didn't seem like Jared had anything more to say, Jensen grabbed a towel and scrubbed the sweat from his face. It would be a lot easier to stay mad, to brush off Jared's apology and call it quits. But Jensen had a job to do, and after what Jensen had said about Jared not taking risks, he knew it had to have taken guts to seek Jensen out and open up like this. Plus, Jensen liked to think he was a big enough person to admit when he made mistakes, too.

"Naw, Jared. You didn't screw this up," he said, wiping down the back of his neck. "You were right. I just…I guess I'm not really good with the whole…" he waved his hand in a vague motion that could have meant anything from 'the whole male beauty pageant thing' to the Macarena. "Apparently, I need to come out of my shell." He concluded, offering Jared a self deprecating smile.

The corners of Jared's mouth quirked up in response, and Jensen could actually see the tension leave his body. "Yeah?" At Jensen's nod, Jared's smile grew and he took a few steps forward. "Good. Because I gotta tell you man, I don't think you should try so hard to cover this up." He accompanied the statement with a small sweeping motion over Jensen, head to toe, and Jensen felt a faint blush stain his cheeks. "Look, I know I've been pushing you these last couple of days, but it's because I believe in you. I think you can do this."

"Uh, did you miss the memo?" Jensen half smiled. "I'm already in the top five. There's not much reason for me to push myself in the competition."

"Maybe," Jared agreed. "But while you're here, don't you think you owe it to yourself to at least try?"

Jensen twisted the gym towel in his hands. The truth was, he'd been wondering if he had it in him to really pull this off. It would be the ultimate one up on all the guys who'd ever given him the brush off. Still, there was that lingering doubt in the back of his head that he'd just wind up making a fool of himself.

As if sensing his thoughts, Jared said, "Don't think of it as being judged on your looks, okay? I mean, you're hot enough to blow all those other guys out of the water, but that's not what this is about."

Jensen bent his head to hide his blush, and damn, he really hated that Jared could get to him like that with such a casually offered compliment. Covering his embarrassment, he offered up a sarcastic, "Are you sure? Because last time I checked, this was actually a _beauty_ pageant."

"I'm not gonna lie, Jensen, looks are a huge part of this, but there's other stuff too. Why do you think they have you jump through all those hoops in the first place? They want to make sure that you're more than just some pretty face." He took a step closer and put his hands on Jensen's arms, and it felt oddly reassuring. "This is the kind of stuff you do everyday, man. The interview is all about intelligence and keeping cool under pressure. Talent is about being well rounded, and the black tie is about style and sophistication, which you have now thanks to me," he finished brightly.

Jensen raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what's the swimsuit competition supposed to be?"

Jared grinned, then maneuvered Jensen in front of the full length mirror. He stood behind Jensen, hands on his shoulders, framing Jensen's body with his. Jensen looked at himself, then he met Jared's eyes in the mirror. Gaze practically drilling into Jensen, Jared leaned over and whispered against the shell of Jensen's ear, "Confidence. It's about confidence, Jen." Jared's breath ghosting over his skin and the easy use of his nickname made Jensen's pulse quicken. "And if you ask me, you don't have anything to worry about." With that, Jared slipped out the way he came, leaving Jensen standing in front of the mirror, trying to see what Jared saw.

Jensen let his gaze travel over his own body, taking in the way his skin still glowed with sweat and the way his t-shirt clung to his chest, defining his athletic build. He might have even flexed a muscle or two, but then quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching. By the time he headed back to his room for a shower and some sleep, he was feeling better, almost calm.

Yeah, he could definitely do this.

***

"Oh my god, I can't do this!" Jensen clenched the towel tight around his waist. "I feel like a Chippendale's dancer! All I need is the little bow tie and breakaway spandex pants!"

Jared just shoved another handful of gummy bears—_Jensen's_ gummy bears—in his mouth. Jensen scowled at Jared's reflection in the mirror, trying in vain to light Jared's perfectly coifed hair on fire with just the heat of his gaze. "You look fine, Jensen," Jared said for the fifteenth time. "Whatever happened to coming out of your shell?"

"Yeah, well, there's a reason some things have shells in the first place," Jensen grumbled. "So they can _cover up!_" A guy walked by wearing a pair of green swim trunks, and Jensen pointed at him with the hand not frantically clutching his towel. "See! Why does Georgia get to wear trunks and I have to wear _this?_"

"Because you're sexier than Georgia," Jared said around a mouthful of colorful candy.

That made Jensen pause in his tirade. "Really?" When Jared just shrugged and nodded, Jensen opened his towel just enough to look at himself in the mirror. The suit Jared had picked out was a black, box cut speedo that left very little to the imagination. Jensen frowned. "I feel like a reject from a fifties beach party movie."

"You look like Cary Grant," Jared said, then unceremoniously whisked away Jensen's towel. "Now quit your bitching or I'll make you wear the red thong I have stashed away in my bag of tricks."

Jensen saw his own eyes get as wide as saucers in the mirror. "You're bluffing."

Jared just smiled and munched on Jensen's gummy bears. "It's from my personal collection," he said, smile growing to evil proportions. "Red was the closest I could find to pink."

While Jensen's mind stuttered to a halt over that particular mental picture, Jared stepped up behind him and looked critically at Jensen's reflection. "Hmm, it needs something…" After a moment's consideration, Jared rolled up the now almost empty bag of gummy bears, then reached around and shoved it down the front of Jensen's suit.

Jensen felt his rather high pitched yelp was completely justified.

"Don't take it personal," Jared said, already leading Jensen to the stage. "Your equipment seems fine, _more_ than fine, but with the dark suit and the stage lights, I figured you could use a little extra definition."

"Yeah, well, warn me the next time you feel like shoving your hand down my pants!"

Jared smirked. "Where's the fun in that?" Jensen opened his mouth to reply, but by now they'd reached the stage and Jensen took an instinctive step back, suddenly finding his shoulders coming up against Jared's chest like a wall. "Now remember, you're coming out of your shell. Think of, um…think of oysters, and snails, and hermit crabs."

Jensen automatically struggled against the insistent hand pushing him towards the stage. "Wouldn't thinking of something like butterflies be more appropriate?"

Jared snorted. "Sure, Jen. Go be a pretty butterfly." Then he shoved Jensen bodily onto the stage.

Jensen flailed a little as he stumbled onstage, but he quickly collected himself and tried very hard not to fidget or think about the fact that he was pretty much naked in public. He watched the guy in front of him hit his mark and pause while the announcer called out, "Georgia!" to raucous applause. As Georgia exited the stage, Jensen started his approach, dreading the crowd's reaction. He held his shoulders back and tried not to look as terrified as he felt, muttering under his breath, "Hermit crabs, oysters, butterflies." The bright stage lights were in his eyes as he walked towards his spot on the stage, feeling panic bubble up in his chest. He just had to get through this. It would all be over soon and Jensen could just chalk it up as one of the most mortifying experiences of his life and move on. He fought back the urge to flee as he stepped into the light and the announcer's voice boomed, "Texas!" over the speakers.

The immediate wolf whistles and catcalls made Jensen gasp a little in surprise. He noticed a woman down front holding up a handmade sign that said, "Don't mess with Texas, because he's all mine!" As the reality of the situation hit him, Jensen felt a tomato red blush bloom over his entire body, and he immediately felt ridiculous, but also a little pleased. He ducked his head to hide his smile and rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. Somehow that just made the crowd go wilder.

Jensen exited the stage to find Jared waiting for him, a funny little half smirk on his face. "What?" Jensen demanded, no real heat behind it.

Jared shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking either you really are a pretty, pretty butterfly, or you make one hell of a showy hermit crab."

"Fuck you," Jensen said, unable to mask his grin. "Just for that, I'm keeping the gummy bears."

***

The next day, Jensen was still thinking about butterflies, but these were the kind that fluttered around in his gut and really just made him want to throw up. He groaned and clutched at his stomach. Jared and Sandy hovered close by.

"If you're gonna puke, make sure you do it _before_ you go onstage," Jared advised helpfully. Jensen decided if he felt the bile rising, he was aiming for Jared's fancy new shoes.

Jensen took another look at the stage and grimaced. Tom was out there, finishing up his fire-eating baton routine. This wasn't the official talent competition, since that would be held the night of the final competition. This was just a preliminary showcase for a little added publicity, and, Jensen imagined, a chance for the judges to get an idea for who the real contenders would be.

Sandy petted Jensen's shoulder lightly. "You'll be fine, Jensen. I've heard you sing before. You've got nothing to worry about!"

Jensen fought down another wave of nausea and gaped at her. "You have? When?"

Sandy bit her lip guiltily. "Uh, remember that night we finally cracked the Donahue case? And Chris took the team out to celebrate?"

Jensen groaned. He didn't remember that night, actually. At least not much past the ninth or tenth drink Chris shoved at him. When he'd asked Chris about it the next morning, the man had just given him a cryptic smile that made Jensen certain he didn't actually want to know what had happened that night. Ever.

"Well, you sort of got up on a table with Chris and sang REO Speedwagon," Sandy continued. "And then you puked on Chad," she added, smiling at the memory.

"Oh, god." Jensen buried his face in his hands as his stomach gave a particularly violent twist. Sandy squeezed his elbow in reassurance, but the effect was fleeting since the next thing Jensen knew, she was slinging a guitar over his shoulder. Jensen felt a wave of panic solidify in his throat and he weakly attempted to bat her away, but she ignored him. Sometimes, dealing with Sandy left Jensen feeling like he'd just been run over by a really perky bus.

"C'mon, you went out onstage in that sexy little speedo, and you did great! You can do this. Tell him, Jared!"

Giant hands come up to grip Jensen's shoulders, kneading at the rock hard knots of tension at the base of Jensen's neck. "Hey, it's gonna be okay, Jen. Just remember to breathe."

At Jared's reminder, Jensen let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He suddenly felt like he was gasping for air, hyperventilating while Jared continued to try to soothe him with his hands and voice. "Remember what we talked about? I believe in you. I know you can do this, alright?" Onstage, Shannon and Fabio were announcing Jensen's act. Any second now, Jensen would be expected to take the stage and sing the Texas state song in front of hundreds of people. "You'll be great, Jensen. Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

Taking one final deep breath, Jensen stepped out onto the stage, and froze.

***

Afterwards, Jensen sat on the backstage steps, the splintered remains of his guitar cradled in his lap, and contemplated his career possibilities after AD Morgan fired his ass for being the biggest screw up in the history of the department.

Although, in his defense, Jensen was already a little on edge—okay, he'd been freaking out—and security was supposed to check the audience for anything that might be a concealed weapon. Jensen was a well trained agent on high alert, so when he saw a guy in the audience reach inside his jacket pocket and withdraw what looked like a gun, he'd thought fast, and acted on behalf of the contestants he had sworn to protect. At the time, he'd felt completely justified in bringing his guitar crashing down on top of the guy's white Stetson.

Then it turned out the 'gun' was actually a lighter, and well, that was just embarrassing.

Sandy was off talking to the press, doing PR and damage control. Jared was…somewhere. And Jensen was huddled on the steps, head between his hands, seriously considering the idea of running off to Canada and becoming a yak herder. Did they even have yaks in Canada?

A blur of movement caught Jensen's eye, and he looked up to find Shannon stomping towards him, wide eyed and furious. _Great,_ Jensen thought, _because clearly, my day hasn't sucked enough._

"What the hell were you thinking?" Shannon hissed as soon as she got within spitting distance.

Jensen was immediately on the defensive. "He had a gun!" Okay, technically it was a gun-shaped lighter, but that should still count.

"This is Texas!" Shannon countered, using a tone that implied she thought _Jensen_ had been the one who'd had a guitar busted over his head. "Everyone has a gun! My _florist_ has a gun!"

"Why the hell do you have a florist?" Jensen asked, only half-faking the shocked confusion in his voice.

Clearly not amused, Shannon leaned close into Jensen's space, dropping her voice to a threatening sneer that Jensen found secretly unsettling. "Listen, you moronic little prettyboy, this is my last chance for a comeback that doesn't involve Dancing With the Stars." Poking Jensen hard in the chest to drive home that she was deathly serious, she continued, "And if you screw this up for me, I will _kill you_. Do you understand me?"

Jensen swallowed thickly and nodded, keeping his eyes locked on Shannon's. When she made no motion to back off, it left Jensen feeling vaguely like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming semi. Then someone else apparently took pity on Jensen and said from just a few feet away, "Shannon."

"What?" She whirled on the intruder, then abruptly lost the acid in her tone. "Oh, it's…um, yes?"

Tom smirked. "Can you give us a minute?"

She looked at Tom, then at Jensen, then back at Tom. "What, with _him?_" When Tom just raised an impatient eyebrow, she cleared her throat. "Uh, sure." With one final glare in Jensen's direction, she stomped off to terrorize her next victim.

Tom was already sinking down onto the step next to Jensen like he belonged there. Jensen just stared at him, then at Shannon's retreating back. "Dude, how did you do that?"

Tom smiled in a way that made Jensen a little nervous. "Let's just say I took one for the team."

Jensen blinked a few times while he tried to decipher that, then felt his eyes go wide. "Oh my god. You didn't seriously have sex with her?"

"Scariest night of my life, man. But she's been freakishly nice to me ever since, so I consider it mission accomplished."

Jensen just continued to stare. "I don't know whether to be revolted or impressed."

Tom grinned at Jensen's horrified tone. "If it makes you feel any better, I only use my superpowers for good, not evil. I may be from Kansas, but I promise not to drop a house on the witch. Even if I really want to." That brought a small smile to the corner of Jensen's mouth, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Noticing his mood, Tom turned serious. "So, I'm guessing whiskey isn't gonna cut it this time." He took out a pack of cigarettes and a silver zippo, lighting one up before he held the pack out to Jensen. "I know, they cause cancer. But at this point you look like you'd prefer death."

Jensen hesitated a split second. He hadn't smoked in years, but Tom was right. Jensen would gladly crawl into a dark, scary hole if it meant he wouldn't have to deal with A.D. Morgan's inevitable call tomorrow. Jensen plucked a cigarette from the pack and put it to his lips. Tom expertly flicked open his silver lighter and brought the flame to the tip of Jensen's cigarette, making him feel a little like the chick in some corny old movie. Jensen took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke into his lungs. It felt good, for a split second, before Jensen's lungs suddenly seized and he launched into a coughing fit. Tom patted him on the back while Jensen worked through it. Jensen wiped at his stinging eyes, noticing that Tom's hand lingered a little on his shoulder.

"So, you gonna tell me what that was all about?" Tom asked.

"It's, uh, been a while since I smoked," Jensen wheezed.

Tom laughed good naturedly. "No, not that. I meant what happened onstage earlier."

"Oh." Jensen felt a minor blush creep up the back of his neck at the memory of how his guitar had cracked over that guy's head. "I, uh…I _really_ hate guns," he answered, cringing at his own lameness.

Jensen expected to get an eyeroll and a comment about the strangeness of a pro-gun-control Texan, but instead Tom just smiled and blew out a smoky breath. "That's cool. You fight for what you believe in. I can respect that." Tom took another drag of his cigarette, apparently deep in thought. He idly flicked his lighter open several times, what Jensen assumed to be a nervous habit. When Tom spoke again, it was in a concerned tone. "Why are you even here?" Jensen frowned, confused. "I mean, it just seems like you could be doing something better."

Jensen stared at the glowing tip of his cigarette. Even after his monstrous screw up, Jensen still felt like he was where he was supposed to be. It was his job to protect these guys, but he couldn't say that to Tom, so he changed the subject. "How about you? Why are you here?"

Tom shrugged. "The whole thing's a scholarship program, right? Gotta earn the money somehow. Even if this is all just a superficial dog and pony show."

Jensen quirked a surprised half smile in Tom's direction. Tom broke just about every preconceived notion Jensen had about the kind of guy who would willingly participate in a male beauty pageant. He smoked, he snuck booze into orientation, and he wasn't acting like becoming Mr. United States was his lifelong dream. In fact, most of the guys Jensen had met over the week had taken him by surprise. Jensen had been expecting an army of Ken dolls with empty heads and cookie-cutter smiles, but almost every guy Jensen had met backstage seemed like down to earth, normal guys Jensen might meet back home. Even Jared had amazed him. He hated the thought of anything happening to any of them. He needed to find out who was writing those letters.

Another coughing fit took Jensen by surprise, and this time Tom did roll his eyes. He patted Jensen on the back just like before, and Jensen glared at the glowing cigarette like it had betrayed him. He dropped it and ground it under his heel, muttering, "Now I remember why I gave those up in the first place."

Tom smirked. "Yeah, but sometimes it's okay to indulge a little," he said, voice low, and this time his hand stayed where it was on Jensen's back. If Jensen didn't know any better, he'd think Tom was making a subtle pass at him, but things like that just didn't happen to Jensen. At least, they'd never happened to him before his miraculous make over…

"Jensen," a sharp voice cut into Jensen's thoughts, and when he looked up he was caught off guard by the wave of comfort that washed over him just from the sight of Jared standing there, arms crossed over his chest. "Aren't you going to introduce me?" Jared asked, and Jensen wondered why Jared's voice sounded a little strained.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," Jensen said, standing. "Jared, this is Tom. Tom, this is—"

"Jared Padalecki," Tom finished, holding out his hand. "I'm a big fan."

Jared eyed Tom's hand for a split second before shaking it brusquely. Jensen noticed Tom wince, then shake his fingers out a little when Jared released him. "Always a pleasure to meet a fan," Jared said with a tight smile that quickly vanished. "But I'm afraid I have steal Jensen away now." As soon as the words left Jared's mouth, he had one giant hand wrapped around Jensen's wrist, pulling him along. "Nice meeting you," Jared called, not bothering to look back over his shoulder.

When they were safely out of earshot, Jensen turned to Jared and whispered, "Everything alright?"

"Sure," Jared replied casually, not meeting Jensen's eyes. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Jensen blinked. "Oh, I dunno, maybe because you were acting like a freak back there?" he bit out. "Seriously, Jay, what's going on?"

At that, Jared smiled, flashing his bright white teeth and those dimples that made Jensen a little weak in the knees. "I have a surprise for you."

***

Jensen took in the funky colored lights, the stage, and the badly out of tune melody that was currently assaulting his ears. He stared at Jared with wide eyes. "You brought me to a karaoke bar."

Jared grinned broadly. "Yep."

Jensen took another look at the stage to find a drag queen singing some ABBA song, a brightly lit disco ball rotating above her/his head. "You brought me to a _gay_ karaoke bar."

Jared looked like he was about to explode with barely restrained laughter. "Yep."

"I so want to hurt you right now."

Jared finally threw his head back and burst out laughing, slapping his arm over Jensen's shoulders and holding on for balance. "I knew you'd love it," he announced victoriously. "You go grab us a table. First round's on me." And with that he headed straight for the bar, leaving Jensen to fend for himself.

Jensen found a table in a darker corner and sat down. He eyed the songbook on the table dubiously for several minutes before curiosity got the better of him. The first song on the list was "Barbie Girl" by Aqua. Jensen slammed the binder closed and shoved it to the opposite side of the table.

"You picked out a song yet?" Jared asked when he reappeared, holding two shots in each hand. They were a sickly greenish yellow color, and as Jared set them on the table Jensen eyed them with the exact same look he'd given the songbook.

"Dude, what the hell is that?"

"Liquid courage," Jared said, picking up a shot and offering it to Jensen. "We're gonna cure you of your stage fright one way or another, Jen. Now drink up."

Jensen took the shot from Jared's hand, trying to ignore the spark he felt when their fingers touched. Jared smirked and threw the shot back in one smooth motion, exposing the long line of his throat. He licked his lips clean, then raised one eyebrow when he caught Jensen staring, frozen. "Anytime you're ready, Jennybean."

Jensen narrowed his eyes in a look that clearly said, _I hate you. So much._ Then he threw his own shot back, barely tasting it except for the tangy, sweet aftertaste it left on his tongue. He licked his lips, trying to catch more of the taste. "Huh. That's actually pretty good. What's in this?"

Jared's eyes belatedly flicked up from Jensen's mouth. "Raspberry vodka and Gatorade," he said, then smiled in a way that was completely evil. "It's called a Gummy Bear Shot."

There was no way Jensen could hold back his answering grin. "You're shittin' me," he said, laughing.

"I shit you not," Jared replied and grabbed the songbook. "Now let's get you drunk and onstage. What do you want to sing first?" He flipped open the binder and his face lit up in childlike glee. "Oh, look! They have Aqua!"

Jensen groaned, but he downed his second shot with a smile.

***

Two hours and many, many shots later, Jared was steadily working through every bubblegum pop song ever recorded, and Jensen had yet to take the stage.

Still, it was hard to feel guilty when he was busy watching Jared shake his gangly, drunken ass to "Oops, I Did It Again." The guy didn't even have to look at the teleprompter once.

Jared exited the stage to a roar of applause Jensen attributed more to Jared's enthusiasm than his talent, then watched as Jared weaved his way back to the table. At least, Jensen thought he was weaving. Jensen was pretty drunk, so Jared could have been walking in a straight line and it was the room that was wobbling.

When he reached the table, Jared waved down the bartender and yelled, "More shots!" before plopping himself down right next to Jensen, a sloppy smile on his face. Jensen couldn't have stopped his answering smile if he'd tried.

"Dude, I am seriously disturbed by the number of Britney Spears songs you know by heart."

"Britney is a greatly misunderstood individual," Jared slurred. It came out sounding like, "mish'nstood invijyual." It was possible Jared was even more drunk than Jensen.

"She's nutty as a fruitcake," Jensen slurred right back.

"That too," Jared agreed brightly. "So, you got a song picked out yet? I'm thinking you should sing 'I'm Too Sexy.' Or 'Bringin' Sexy Back.' Or 'Sexbomb.'"

"I'm thinking you're even crazier than Britney," Jensen replied, blushing a little at the trend of Jared's suggestions. Jensen had flipped through the book a little, and there was one song that had caught his eye, but it would take a hell of a lot more liquid courage before he could get up and sing it.

"And now I'm thinking you're obviously not drunk enough," Jared said, pushing another shot towards Jensen. "C'mon, Jen, we're here for you! And we're not leaving until you get up on that stage."

"Or until one of us passes out," Jensen added, downing the shot. When he looked back at Jared, he was giving Jensen a hangdog, pleading expression that made Jensen squirm in his seat. "Look, I'll get up and sing later," he lied, and Jared's puppy eyes took on a note of skepticism. "I will! I promise." Jared didn't need to know that Jensen was hoping one of them would be passed out under the table before he had to make good on his promise. "Why don't you find another song and keep the crowd warmed up for me, okay Britney?" Jensen suggested, pushing the book at Jared and hoping it wasn't too obviously an attempt at distraction.

Jared continued to look skeptical and suspicious, but then he glanced down at the page of old pop songs that Jensen had marked, and Jensen muttered a secret prayer of thanks for Jared's short attention span and bad eighties pop. Jared was clearly taking his decision between "Like a Virgin" and "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" very seriously. He was deep in thought, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his teeth, and Jensen just had to stop and stare. Jared was gorgeous, but it was more than that. It was something about the way he carried himself with such open honesty, always offering up a genuine smile, as if he was totally at ease in his own skin. He approached life like a kid in a candy store, trusting and maybe a little naïve, even after all that had happened to him. It should have grated on Jensen's own skeptical, slightly jaded personality—and at first it had—but now Jensen found himself drawn to it. Jensen wondered how anyone could have taken advantage of that, like that asshole "partner" Jared had mentioned. If Jensen was ever lucky enough to have someone like Jared…God, Jensen didn't dare complete that thought. Thoughts like that were too dangerous.

Jared looked up, tongue still caught between his teeth, and Jensen knew he'd been caught staring. "What?" Jared asked, nothing but innocent curiosity in his expression. "Do I have something on my face?"

He wiped a hand over his mouth, nearly jabbing a finger up his nose in his drunken state, and Jensen was so focused on not finding it adorable that the question escaped his mouth with a complete bypass of Jensen's brain. "Did you love him?"

Jensen decided the confused frown Jared wore at the question couldn't entirely be blamed on the alcohol. "Huh? Who?"

And here was Jensen's chance to brush it aside, to dismiss the question with a simple "Nevermind" and go on about their business. But Jensen's brain was too busy sloshing around in a pool of vodka to get with the program, so once again his mouth took over. "I mean that guy, your partner. The one who screwed you over." _Ouch,_ Jensen thought. _Okay, brain, anytime you want to join the party is okay by me._ "I just…I meant…Did you love him?"

Jared was quiet for so long, Jensen almost decided to move on and pretend he'd never asked. Except, well, now that he _had_ asked, he was curious. Jared twirled an empty shot glass on the table with his fingers. "I used to think so, sometimes," he said, badly faking casual. "But now…I'm not sure. I mean, he thought I was just some pretty face, y'know? He never bothered to look deeper." Jared quirked a rueful smile at Jensen, finally meeting his eyes. "It's hard to love someone when they never really see you in the first place."

Apparently, Jensen's brain had descended into unconsciousness without bothering to inform his body, because the next words out of his mouth were, "I think you're more than just a pretty face."

Jared blinked at Jensen's earnest tone. Jensen swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close they were sitting. They were pressed up against each other, shoulder to hip to thigh, and Jensen was able to smell the lingering sweetness on Jared's breath as he whispered, "Yeah?" Not trusting his mouth this time, Jensen clamped down on his bottom lip and slowly nodded. Jared's eyes flicked down to Jensen's lip trapped between his teeth. Something dark and almost hungry flashed in Jared's eyes, and it made Jensen's breath catch in his chest. Slowly, Jared began to lean closer. Jensen's lips parted slightly, half in shock and half in anticipation.

It was at that very moment that Jensen's brain chose to come back online, though not in the way Jensen had hoped. "Shannon," he whispered, his revelation coming out as a puff of breath against Jared's lips.

Jared froze, then slowly pulled back to give Jensen a baffled look. "Wow. Way to kill the moment," he muttered.

"No, it's—It's _Shannon!_ It has to be!" Jensen said, so caught up in his own excitement of discovery that he leapt to his feet…and then nearly came crashing back down when the room spun in one magnificently dizzying swirl. Oh, god, he was so drunk.

Jared steadied Jensen as best he could while the world took its own sweet time righting itself. "Okay, you're not making any sense."

"The person writing the letters!" Jensen explained in a rush. "It's Shannon!"

Jared frowned. "I dunno, Jen. I mean, I know she's kind of a bitch and all—"

"Just think about it, Jay," Jensen interrupted restlessly. "The pageant never would have gotten picked up by a major network without all the publicity from the threats, and now this show is almost single-handedly paving the way for Shannon's big comeback. It has to be her! She even threatened me when I almost screwed it up for her!"

Instantly, the steadying hands on Jensen's shoulders where holding him in a vice-like grip. "She _what?_"

"Yeah, she threatened to kill me right after I made an idiot of myself at the talent competition," Jensen explained, wondering why Jared suddenly looked like he wanted to punch something. Jensen was half tempted to take a few steps out of arms' reach, just in case he started swinging.

"Look, I'll explain on the way," Jensen said, practically dragging a very confused and pissed off Jared in his wake.

"Wait, on the way to where? Jensen, where are we going? Jensen!"

***

"Jen, is this even legal?"

Jensen fumbled with the lock on Shannon's dressing room door, cursing when he slipped up again. Damn gummy bear shots were making it impossible for Jensen to pick the lock. "Not exactly," he answered Jared's question.

"Shit, Jensen! Then why are we even here?"

"Look, we just gotta make sure we don't touch anything. If we find something, then we just cover our tracks and call in an anonymous tip. No big deal." The lock finally turned, and Jensen had to resist the urge to shout his victory into the empty dark. Jensen stepped inside the room, Jared close behind. "Okay, let's get to work."

Jensen immediately went to the small desk in the corner and started rummaging through the drawers. "Do you even know what you're looking for?" Jared whispered, his drunken voice coming out much louder than he obviously intended.

"Something suspicious."

"Very descriptive, thank you," Jared drawled.

"I'll know it when I see it, okay? It'll be something out of place, or hidden, or—" Jensen abruptly stopped when he spied the trashcan. Reaching in, he pulled out a half-burned sheaf of papers resting on top. "Something like this," he announced triumphantly. Jensen squinted at the papers, trying to read the writing, but he couldn't see much in the dark. "I can't make it out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jared grab a silver lighter off the desk. "Here," he said, flicking on the lighter and holding it close to the papers.

Jensen grabbed the lighter out of Jared's hands and cursed. "Dammit, Jay! What did I say about not touching anything?"

"You were already touching everything! What difference does it make if I—"

But Jared didn't get a chance to finish, because at that moment the cold tip of a gun pressed to the back of Jensen's neck and a woman's voice said, "Don't move."

Jensen froze. That voice didn't belong to Shannon, but it was definitely…familiar. His alcohol addled brain struggled to put the pieces together. "Sandy?" Jensen ventured.

There was a heavy pause, and then, "Jensen?" The light flicked on, and both Jared and Jensen blinked harshly at the sudden brightness. Sandy whirled Jensen to face her, and he nearly fell in his inebriated clumsiness. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Uh." Quick thinking had never really been his forte, and Sandy had this annoying habit of seeing right through him, anyway. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"We got an anonymous tip, so I was coming to check it out. Are you drunk?" Sandy asked, wrinkling her cute little button nose when she got a whiff of his breath.

"Yes?" Jensen cringed, swaying a little. "But I found something. I think Shannon might be our man…Woman. Suspect."

Sandy took the papers and scanned them quickly, her face lighting up. "Jensen, do you what these are? They're rough drafts of the threatening letters the pageant company received! She must have been trying to destroy them when somebody caught her and called in the tip!" Glancing between the two of them, she said, "Look, you guys go back to the hotel and sleep this off. Morgan's gonna be here early tomorrow."

"Right," Jensen deadpanned. "Because I would hate to be _hungover_ when I get fired. That would really ruin it."

Sandy shooed them away, promising to take care of everything. Jensen didn't remember much else, aside from the fact that Jared somehow managed to get them back to the hotel in one piece. He had a vague recollection of being dropped onto the bed and his shoes awkwardly tugged from his feet. There may have been a hand in his hair, but Jensen passed out pretty quickly, so he couldn't be sure he wasn't already dreaming.

***

A.D. Morgan clapped Jensen on the back hard enough to make the younger man wince. "I gotta tell ya, Ackles, I'm surprised. I was giving serious thought to pulling you off the case, and then as soon as I arrived Sandy told me you'd managed to arrest the suspect!"

Shannon had been escorted out of the building in handcuffs early that morning, bitching loudly at the cops who manhandled her into the waiting squad car. Jensen had watched the whole spectacle from red-rimmed eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, drinking coffee strong enough to peel paint, and willing the pounding in his head to subside. It was entirely possible he was still a little hungover.

"Thank you, sir," Jensen replied. "But really it was Sandy who—"

"It was all Jensen's idea, sir. He was the one who found the letters in Ms. Doherty's dressing room," Sandy interrupted.

"Look, I don't care who broke the case, so long as it's done. I just received another case in Houston, so I want you both there by seven tonight. You'll be briefed en route."

"Wait, tonight?" Jensen asked. "We can't be there by tonight. It's the final competition."

Morgan gave him a bemused glance. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you just arrest the suspect? The case is closed. You don't need to stick around."

"With all do respect, sir, we don't know with any certainty that Shannon was acting alone, or even if she really is the person responsible for the letters. What if we leave and something happens?"

Morgan's confusion intensified, and now Sandy was looking baffled as well. "Are you listening to yourself? A week ago I had to threaten to tie your ass to a desk in order to get you to take this assignment. Now the suspect's been arrested, at _your_ recommendation, and you still don't want to leave. What's going on with you, Ackles?"

"I just…I have this feeling. Like the job's not finished, yet." _Or maybe I'm just not ready for it to be finished,_ Jensen added silently.

Morgan gave him a long, piercing look, then said quietly, "Ackles, can I speak to you alone for a minute?" Once everyone had filed out, he laid a heavy palm on Jensen's shoulder. "Listen, Jensen, you know how some of the boys back in the department are gonna take this. Now I try to stay out of this kind of thing, let you fight your own damn battles. But you staying out here, off duty, to compete in a male beauty pageant? Well…there'll be talk."

Jensen tilted his chin up defiantly. "So? I'll have to deal with a little extra ribbing when I get back. I've dealt with it before, I can do it again. I think it's more important that someone stays here, just in case."

Morgan held his gaze a beat, then nodded. "Okay, it's your choice. But I have to warn you, the case is officially closed, so I can't give you mission approval. You stay out here, you do it as a civilian. You'll need to turn over your badge and gun." Jensen had known it was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. Reluctantly, he withdrew his handgun and his leather badge, then handed them over to Morgan. The loss of their comforting weight made him feel strangely bereft. Morgan flashed a small, understanding smile. "I'll hold them for you until you get back to Dallas," he said.

***

"Jay!" Jensen shouted, bursting into Jared's hotel room and buzzing past him straight to the bathroom mirror. "Jay, I need help. The competition is in two hours and I look like hungover roadkill. I need you to work your magic, man!" Glancing back to where Jared still stood frozen by the door, Jensen waved an impatient hand. "Hey, I'm serious, Jared. Get your bag of tricks, get over here and make me look awesome. C'mon, why are you still standing there?"

Jared grimaced like he'd just swallowed a very large, very unsavory bug. "My plane leaves in an hour."

For the first time since entering the room, Jensen noticed the luggage stacked neatly by the door. It all matched, navy blue with pink ribbons tied to the zippers. "I don't understand."

Jared shot him a pained look, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "I'm heading back to LA tonight. It wasn't my idea. I have to go, or I don't get paid."

"Wait, you're…you're _leaving?_" Jensen took a few steps closer, gaping at Jared like he'd lost his mind. "You can't leave. The competition isn't fixed anymore. I have to do this on my own. I don't—" Jensen stopped abruptly, swallowing back the rush of words running through his head. "Jared, I need you," he said, his voice sounding too small in the suddenly too large room.

Something broke a little in Jared's expression, and he closed the distance between them. Jared swallowed thickly, making his Adam's apple bob in the slender column of his throat. Looking down at Jensen, he asked, "Did I ever tell you that San Antonio is my hometown?" He continued, a hint of regret in his tone, "I was kinda hoping after this was all over, if you had some time off, I could've shown you around, given you the grand tour."

Jensen felt like someone was slowly chipping away at his heart. "That would've been nice," he said, his voice a quiet rasp. They shared a heavy pause, and then Jensen nearly whispered, "I don't think I can do this without you here."

The muscles in Jared's jaw twitched for a half second as he grit his teeth. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a flat, square box. "I…I got you something. I was saving it for tonight, but…"

Jensen unclenched the fists he'd unconsciously formed and took the box gingerly from Jared's palm. He opened the lid to find a pink silk handkerchief inside. Embroidered on one corner, Jensen could just make out his initials, JRA. He ran the tips of his fingers over the raised letters. When he looked back up at Jared, he could hardly speak past the lump in his throat. "Jay…"

A knock at the open door interrupted them. The bellhop stuck her head in the room and glanced at the bags leaning against the wall. "Mr. Padalecki? Would you like me to take your luggage, sir?"

Jared glanced over his shoulder and gave the girl a small nod. When he looked back, his eyes looked a little glassy. "I need to go."

Jensen thought, _No, you need to stay._ He said, "Yeah. Okay."

Jared didn't move for several more seconds, but eventually he managed to force himself to go. He paused in the open doorway, and his expression was like a shot right to Jensen's heart. Jared opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then he belatedly thought better of it and turned to leave, shutting the door with a quiet but final-sounding click.

Jensen hesitated before crossing to the door. He pressed his palm flat to the cool wood, then closed his eyes and leaned against it with his forehead. There were no sounds on the other side, but Jensen somehow knew that Jared hadn't left yet, that he was still standing outside the door. Jensen willed him to come back, kept waiting for the knob to turn, but after a while, Jensen heard soft footfalls moving down the hallway and out of his life forever.

[Part 3](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/12918.html)

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**Miss(ter) Congeniality, (2/3)**   
_


	3. Miss(ter) Congeniality, (3/3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, folks. This fic kinda got away from me as far as word count goes. The only other completed J2 I've ever done is just under 2000 words. This is over 23,000. Yikes.

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[fandom: cw rps](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3A%20cw%20rps), [fic: miss(ter) congeniality](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20miss%28ter%29%20congeniality), [genre: au](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20au), [genre: crack](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20crack), [genre: humor](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20humor), [genre: prompt/challenge response](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20prompt%2Fchallenge%20response), [genre: romance](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20romance), [pairing: jared/jensen](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20jared%2Fjensen), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
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By the time Jensen made it backstage, everyone was in the final stages of preparation for the talent competition. People were running around in a chaotic mess, gathering props, putting on costumes, and rehearsing, but Jensen was in a state of panic. He didn't know how to apply all the stage make up Jared usually made him wear, so he hadn't bothered trying. His stomach was in knots at the thought of having to perform for the packed auditorium. His fingers felt numb and sluggish on the guitar strings, and he couldn't even get the damn thing in tune. To top it all off, Jensen just couldn't seem to focus. It was hard enough trying to concentrate with all the activity backstage, but instead of notes and lyrics, Jensen's thoughts kept coming back to potential suspect lists and the look on Jared's face right before he'd left.

"Hey, Jensen, have you seen my lighter?" Tom appeared out of nowhere just as Jensen struck another bad chord. Jensen eyed Tom in his black outfit with sequined flames running down the sides, then just shook his head silently in answer. Tom frowned before heading off to continue the search, leaving Jensen to question his own wardrobe choice.

Jensen had chosen comfort over fashion, since he was nervous and fidgety enough without adding an itchy shirt to the mix. He was wearing his favorite jeans and a simple, faded blue tee that had been worn soft in the wash. The jeans had a small rip at the knee, but he'd had them for so long that they'd molded to fit his body like a glove. It wasn't exactly the elaborate costumes everyone else was wearing, but Jensen knew he'd feel even more ridiculous in some flashy outfit made of rainbow sequins. He wondered if Jared would have made him wear something like that, smiling that big goofy smile and laughing at Jensen behind his eyes.

A guy walked by in a Shakespearian costume, quoting Hamlet to himself, and Jensen struck another chord that sounded like a howling cat. Cursing, he hung his head and ran a sweaty palm through his hair. He couldn't do this. He would go out there and it would be just like last time. His heart would pound, he would break out in a cold sweat, and he'd freeze up, only this time it would be on national television. Even as he thought about it, Jensen could feel the wave of panic start to rise in his chest, and his breathing started to pick up. There was too much activity, too many people, and Jensen needed to get some space before he hyperventilated and passed out.

Practically ripping the guitar off his shoulder, Jensen made a beeline for the nearest restroom and banged the door open with his fist. The room was about the size of a large closet, with a toilet and a sink and paint peeling in one corner by the door. He splashed ice cold water on his face and leaned over the sink, trying to get his breathing back under control. When he thought he could feel his heartbeat begin to slow, he hazarded a glance in the mirror. What he saw there made his heart start to pound all over again.

Jared stood behind him, an uncertain smile on his face as he stared at Jensen's reflection. He looked like he'd come straight from the airport. He was wearing a wrinkled white button down, shirt tails hanging out over an old pair of jeans, and ratty flip flops. Jensen thought he'd never looked better.

"You okay?" Jared asked. "For a minute there I thought I'd have to break out the smelling salts," he said, motioning to the bag hanging at his side.

For a long second, Jensen couldn't do anything but stare. When he finally found his voice, he said, "Is there anything you _don't_ have in that bag?"

One corner of Jared's mouth inched a fraction higher. "Not really. I've got pretty much everything you might ever need in here." As if to prove it, he reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of makeup. "We'd better get started," he said hesitantly.

He opened the bottle and took a small step forward, not meeting Jensen's eyes. But when he reached up towards Jensen's face, Jensen grabbed his wrist. Jared's eyes found Jensen's curiously, but all Jensen could think to say was a quiet, "You'll miss your flight."

Jared shrugged with one shoulder, but his eyes never left Jensen's. "I already did," he replied just as quietly.

They continued to stare at each other for several long moments, until finally Jensen felt a slow smile creep over his face. "Thanks," he said, then watched an answering grin deepen the dimples on Jared's face. Jensen had to bite his lip to hold in the ridiculous giggle he could feel bubbling up in his chest.

Their eyes never left each other's as Jared applied Jensen's stage makeup. Jensen settled into the soothing, now familiar feeling of Jared's fingers on his face, his neck, in his hair. He had to bite back a whine of protest when he could tell Jared was nearing the end of the routine. He hated the thought that after today, he'd never feel Jared touch him like this again.

Jared seemed just as reluctant as Jensen was to finish, letting his fingers stay curled around the nape of Jensen's neck as he looked thoughtfully over Jensen's face. When he once more reached for his bag, Jensen was surprised to see the small dark pencil Jared withdrew. "Final touch," he explained to Jensen's furrowed brow. "Look up," he instructed.

Jensen flicked his eyes to the ceiling, and Jared dragged the tip of the eyeliner over the rim of Jensen's bottom lids. One of Jared's big, warm hands was cupping Jensen's jaw, holding him steady, and it took all of Jensen's willpower not to curl into the touch like a cat. Jared was so close, hovering inches away from where Jensen was pressed back against the edge of the sink. All Jensen had to do was shift a little closer and their hips would be perfectly aligned.

"Close your eyes." Jensen did as instructed, and Jared repeated the process on his upper lids. In the sudden blackness, everything seemed sharper. Jensen could smell Jared's skin, like sweat and recycled air from the airplane, and the lingering hint of his shampoo. He could feel Jared's breath on his face in warm, gentle puffs, and he knew if he just tipped his head up a little more he could capture Jared's mouth with his.

In that moment, Jensen made a decision. Jared and Sandy had been right before; Jensen never went after the things he wanted. He'd spent most of his life with his head buried in the sand, too scared to take a chance on himself or the people around him. But he knew if he didn't at least try, if he didn't take a chance with Jared, he'd always regret it.

Jared smudged the kohl over Jensen's lids with the pads of his thumbs, then said, "Okay, open your eyes." The instant Jensen locked eyes with Jared he laid everything bare, let heat filter into his gaze, and tried to let Jared see everything he'd kept hidden from the rest of the world. He didn't even realize his hand had settled onto Jared's hip until he felt it fist in Jared's shirt with the force of his want.

At first, Jared didn't react. Jensen tensed and held his breath, afraid of the moment when Jared might turn away, a polite rejection on his lips. A second later, something in Jared's gaze shifted, and Jensen felt like he was burning up inside just from the hunger in Jared's eyes. Jared let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl and instantly pulled Jensen into a scorching kiss.

Jared's mouth was soft and warm, and Jensen was momentarily blindsided by how right it felt. He sucked Jared's bottom lip into his mouth. It tasted sweet, like cherry flavored chapstick. His hands tangled in Jared's hair, threading through the silky brown locks the way he'd been wanting since the first day they met. Jared's arms wrapped around Jensen with surprising strength, bringing their bodies flush. The edge of the sink was digging into Jensen's ass, but their hips slotted together perfectly, and Jensen got hard so fast it gave him a headrush. He clutched at Jared's shoulders for balance, seeing spots dance behind his eyelids.

Jared kissed him like a drowning man gasping for air. Jensen kissed back with just as much desperation, opening his mouth to let Jared slide in. A moan rumbled deep in Jensen's chest, and Jared slipped long fingers under the edge of Jensen's shirt. It felt like Jensen had been waiting forever for Jared to put his hands on Jensen's skin. When one broad palm skimmed up the length of his spine, rucking his shirt up in its wake, Jensen felt the cool air on his hot skin and shivered.

Jared's mouth descended on Jensen's neck, trailing from his jaw to his collarbone, and Jensen's head fell backwards in a quiet gasp. Jensen's head swam as Jared kissed and sucked the sensitive line of his throat. He couldn't seem to get close enough to Jared. He brought one hand up to cradle the back of Jared's neck, holding him tight against Jensen's pulse point. His legs parted a little further in almost unconscious invitation. Jared rumbled a half-formed curse into Jensen's neck as he pressed in further with a small rock of his hips, letting Jensen feel the hard length practically throbbing with heat alongside Jensen's.

Jensen sucked in a harsh breath and seriously considered the pros and cons of just coming in his pants. It wasn't until he considered the possibility of going out on stage with a giant wet spot on his jeans that he came crashing back to reality. "Jay, wait." It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Jensen gently extricated himself from Jared's embrace, holding Jared's face between his hands and meeting glassy, confused eyes. "We can't—I have to go perform soon. I have enough trouble onstage as it is, I can't go out there if I'm all…" He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his crotch. "…tense," he finished.

Jared blinked, but then a wicked smirk slowly lit up his face and his eyes took on a devious glint. Leaning close, his breath ghosted over the shell of Jensen's ear as he whispered, "I think I have the perfect idea to help you relax." Then he slid down the length of Jensen's body, going to his knees. His fingers slipped under the waistband of Jensen's jeans, and the sight of Jared looking up at him, cheeks flushed and lips wet, killed any further protest Jensen might have made.

"Oh, fuck," Jensen breathed, but it sounded more like, _Yes. Please._ One corner of Jared's mouth lifted in victory. Fingertips skirted along the edge of Jensen's jeans, pushing the hem of his shirt up, and then Jared leaned in to nip lightly at the skin just below Jensen's navel. Jensen let out an embarrassing whimper as Jared licked soothingly at the patch of skin, then tugged at the button of Jensen's fly. Jared reached one giant hand into Jensen's pants and pulled out his aching cock, wrapping long fingers around the shaft and thumbing the moisture at the tip. Jensen screwed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the sink with white knuckles. But as amazing as it felt, it was nothing compared to when Jared wrapped the hot, wet, furnace of his mouth over the head of Jensen's cock and started sucking.

Jensen's breath exploded from his chest in a harsh sigh. Jensen always got quiet during really good sex, becoming so incoherent he was lucky if he even remembered to breathe. But Jared seemed to be just the opposite. He hummed as he swirled his tongue around the head, moaning loud and long as he took Jensen's length into his mouth. Jensen stroked his fingers through Jared's hair, tugging lightly at the base of his skull. He tried to say Jared's name, but all that came out was an unintelligible whisper of a sound. Jensen felt like all the air had been stolen from his lungs. His thighs quivered under Jared's palms as Jared hollowed out his cheeks, working his tongue along the underside of Jensen's cock with each stroke. Jensen's panting breaths were drowned out by the continual needy, happy little moans Jared made, and it was too much, it had been too long, and this was _Jared,_ and _oh god_.

Jared wrapped one strong arm around Jensen's hips and pulled him all the way into Jared's throat, scratching blunt nails across the base of Jensen's spine, and that was it. He was gone, coming so hard it was blinding, Jared swallowing him down and sucking lightly through the aftershocks. Jared stood quickly, pulling Jensen into a fierce kiss and parting his lips so Jensen could taste himself on Jared's tongue. Jared's arms were like iron bands around Jensen's chest as Jared mumbled disjointed, half-formed phrases against Jensen's lips. "God, Jen. I wanna—in you—" Jensen's only answer was to pull Jared into another desperate, come-flavored kiss.

The next thing Jensen knew he was practically being lifted and spun around to slam into the opposite wall, Jared's wide palm cushioning the back of his head. Jared kissed him once more before turning Jensen around and lifting his hands by the wrists, planting his palms firmly against the wall. Jensen had always guessed Jared was strong, but being so easily manhandled into position sent an unnerving flare of heat through Jensen's body. Jared once again slid to the floor, this time pulling Jensen's jeans and boxers down around his thighs. Jared's hands skimmed up to palm Jensen's ass, thumbs dipping into the crease and grazing over his hole, making his cock twitch. Jensen was busy trying to bring his brain back to earth when he unexpectedly felt Jared spread him open and push his warm, wet tongue inside.

"_Fuck!_" The word was torn from Jensen's throat as a choked-off whisper. Jared, the bastard, just hummed his agreement and stroked his tongue deeper. It took all of Jensen's concentration not to just slide down the wall in a boneless heap. The barest hint of stubble brushed the insides of his thighs as Jared curled his tongue around Jensen's opening. It made Jensen's entire body break out in gooseflesh, and he curled his fingers into the wall.

Then suddenly Jared moved away, and Jensen nearly keened at the loss, feeling Jared's saliva rapidly cool on his skin. "Jay?"

He heard rustling, and then Jared was right there, pressed up against the length of his back, one hand wrapped tightly around his hip. "I'm right here," he said into Jensen's ear. "Just had to grab something from my bag." And then Jared pushed one long, slick finger into his opening, bringing a sound to Jensen's throat like a broken sob. Belatedly, he realized Jared must have dug a bottle of lube from his bag. Jared half chuckled, half groaned into the back of Jensen's neck. "See? I told you, I really _do_ keep everything in there." Jensen would have uttered a come back, but then one finger became two, and all Jensen could do was gasp and push his hips back recklessly into Jared's hand. Jared uttered a soft curse and guided Jensen's hips away from the wall. Jensen's arms were locked straight in front of him, palms spread wide, his body wound tight as a rubber band ready to snap. The way Jared was touching him, the feeling of body heat bleeding through their clothes, the scent of Jared's skin, it all combined to make Jensen feel like the world had tilted beneath his feet. He didn't know how it was possible, but he'd gotten hard again. Jared's fingers scissored and twisted inside him, brushing his prostate, and Jensen's back arched into a sharp bow.

"God, Jen, you look—_fuck_. You don't even know. _Goddamn._" Jared cut off his awestruck rambling with a noise like a growl, and then Jared's hand was gone and Jensen could hear the frantic, fumbling sounds of a belt buckle being undone with slick fingers. With one final, muffled curse, Jared bracketed Jensen's hips with hands large enough to nearly encircle his waist and Jensen felt the blunt pressure of Jared's cock at his opening. His breath caught in both anticipation and relief as Jared pushed slowly inside. He was huge, and Jensen could feel the stretch all the way down to his toes. Jared's chest was flush to Jensen's back, his breath hot against the nape of Jensen's neck. One of Jared's hands came up to caress the length of Jensen's outstretched arm, trailing a soothing touch from shoulder to wrist, twining his fingers between Jensen's when he finally bottomed out inside Jensen's body.

"Breathe, Jen," Jared whispered into the back of his neck. The strained edge to his voice made him sound less smug than he had probably intended, and the thought made Jensen smile as he forced his lungs to expand.

When Jared started to move, slowly at first, it made Jensen's head spin. Jared filled him up until he could practically feel each thrust in his throat. One hand stayed clamped tight to Jensen's hip, holding him steady as Jared picked up the pace. His other hand brought their twined fingers to rest on Jensen's chest, embracing him tightly and pressing his face to the crook of Jensen's neck. He grunted softly with each rock of his hips, like it was a surprise each time he got to push into Jensen's tight heat.

The tautness in Jensen's body began to ebb away. His muscles turned to water, and his bones to Jello. Then Jared's angle changed, hitting the perfect spot inside with each thrust, and Jensen nearly collapsed in Jared's arms. He let his head fall back against Jared's shoulder with a quiet cry. Jared responded by latching his mouth to the side of Jensen's neck and crashing his hips hard into Jensen's ass. Jensen forgot to breathe, forgot to think, and just let Jared take him.

Jared's hand slipped from his waist to wrap around his aching cock, stroking roughly in time with his thrusts. Jensen was almost completely gone, rocking between Jared's hips and his hand, so close he could almost taste his orgasm on the back of his tongue. Jared's strained, husky voice pleaded in Jensen's ear, "Please, Jen, c'mon," and that was all Jensen needed to push him over the edge. He screwed his eyes shut and dropped his jaw in a wordless shout, and when he came it felt like every nerve ending in his body had fired at once, like they had all been melted and fused together. He was only dimly aware of Jared's teeth in his shoulder as his own orgasm hit, spilling into Jensen's body.

When Jensen came back to himself, Jared was still wrapped around him like a giant, bony octopus, and Jensen was resting his forehead against the coolness of the wall. He was pretty sure it was the only thing holding the both of them upright. They were both panting like a couple of racehorses, and Jensen concentrated on getting his harsh breathing under control. He could feel drops of sweat running down the back of his neck, and Jared's tongue flicked out to lick them away.

A knock at the door made them both start, then freeze. A girl's voice called out, "Hey, Mr. Texas? Are you in there?"

Once Jensen's mind had recovered from it's panicked litany of _Fuck fuck fuckity fuck_ he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm here," he said, and tried very hard not to think about the fact that Jared's cock was still inside him. Despite his distress, his voice was thick from his post orgasmic haze and his Texas drawl slipped into his speech.

"Oh, thank god!" The girl's voice sounded relieved. "We've been looking for you forever! You're on in five minutes!"

"Fuck," Jensen cursed under his breath, and then louder, "I'll be right out!"

Despite his words, neither of them immediately moved to pull away. Squeezing Jensen a little tighter, Jared spoke quietly into the nape of Jensen's neck. "As soon as this is over, we're doing that again. Like, a thousand more times. But in a bed." The Texas accent had taken over Jared's voice as well, dripping over the words like molasses.

"And give up this romantic setting?" Jensen asked lazily, glancing at the peeling paint and chipped sink. "Can we at least come back here for special occasions and anniversaries?"

Jared pinched his ass with uncoordinated fingers. "Shut up, or I won't let you top tonight."

They got cleaned up and dressed quickly, but judging by the glance Jensen caught of himself in the mirror—swollen lips, wildly mussed hair and black rimmed, glassy eyes—he didn't think any amount of smoothing down hair or adjusting clothing could wipe the 'I just had really _amazing_ sex' look from their faces. His suspicions were confirmed when they opened the door and the tiny, blonde PA gave them a quick once over before turning a rather becoming shade of scarlet. It probably didn't help that Jared had two fingers hooked into the back pocket of Jensen's jeans.

The girl cleared her throat and held up Jensen's guitar. "They're, um—They're ready for you onstage. You'd better hurry."

And just like that, Jared was practically dragging him towards the stage, giving him a quick leer and a muttered, "Damn, you look good all fucked out. Here's hoping we cured your stagefright," before practically flinging Jensen onto the stage.

Jensen squinted into the bright lights and fidgeted with his guitar strap. In the center of the stage there was a small stool and a microphone stand. Jensen stepped forward, the heels of his cowboy boots clicking hard against the stage and echoing loudly in the eerily silent auditorium. For the first time, Jensen was thankful for his bowlegged walk, because it did something to hide the fact he'd just been fucked six ways to Sunday only minutes before setting foot onstage.

As Jensen took his place on the stool, the stage went completely black, except for the bright white spotlight shining directly in Jensen's face. And Jensen waited for the freak out—because he was onstage, and he knew he looked about as post-coital as he felt, and he was about to _sing_—but then, it didn't.

He wasn't sure he had the energy left for a freak out. Every single part of Jensen's body felt loose, languid, and well…_relaxed_. Apparently, having two spectacular orgasms with the man of his dreams really was the cure for Jensen's stagefright. He still didn't _like_ being onstage, but he felt a little bit less like he wanted to run away and hide under the biggest rock he could find. Jensen glanced to the side to see Jared watching him anxiously, a tense set to his shoulders. Jared tried to offer an encouraging smile, and Jensen figured he was trying to calm what he thought to be Jensen's frazzled nerves. Jensen felt his own face light up in an answering half grin. He could do this. And not because of some new hairstyle, or expensive clothes, or being able to pose for the judges. He could do this because while Jared had been working on Jensen's outward appearance, he'd also somehow seen something beneath the surface. For the first time, Jensen felt like he was the person he was always meant to become, the person he'd kept hidden inside that Jared had found and brought out for the world to see. And now, watching Jared's hesitant smile turn into something brighter, Jensen couldn't stop an idea from forming in his head.

Jensen cleared his throat awkwardly, then leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. "Hi," Jensen said, adjusting a few strings on his guitar. "I, um…I know the program says I'm supposed to sing the Texas state song for y'all—" Jensen had to pause as that got a roar from the primarily Texan crowd, either from the mention of their beloved state or the way the relaxed, down home drawl had slipped back into Jensen's speech. "But I'd like to sing something a little different."

Jensen took another few seconds to pluck at the strings, making sure they were in tune. Then, laughing a little at himself for releasing his inner teenage girl, he launched into the song he had wanted to sing that night at the karaoke bar, [You Found Me](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=WGAUYCSZ) by Kelly Clarkson. The acoustic guitar cut out a lot of the flashiness of the pop song, leaving it feeling more raw, matching the rough tone of his voice. Jensen let the first few chords wash over him before he began to sing in his usual quiet baritone, his voice growing louder as he began to loose himself in the lyrics of the song.

_Is this a dream?  
If it is  
Please don't wake me from this high  
I've become comfortably numb  
Until you opened up my eyes  
To what it's like  
When everything's right  
I can't believe_

You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know just where I would be?  
Yeah, you broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
You found me  
You found me

So, here we are  
That's pretty far  
When you think of where we've been  
No going back  
I'm fading out  
All that has faded me within  
You're by my side  
Now everything's fine  
I can't believe

You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know just where I would be?  
Yeah, you broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
You found me  
You found me

And I was hiding  
'Til you came along  
And showed me where I belong

You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know?  
How did you know?

You found me  
When no one else was lookin'  
How did you know just where I would be?  
Yeah, you broke through  
All of my confusion  
The ups and the downs  
And you still didn't leave  
I guess that you saw what nobody could see  
The good and the bad  
And the things in between  
You found me  
You found me

As the notes of the last chord faded into the roar of the crowd, Jensen didn't hear any of it. He walked off stage in a daze, focused solely on Jared's form standing perfectly still, half hidden in the shadow of the backstage curtain. Something in Jared's expression made him pause a few feet away, and he watched as Jared's throat worked silently. He waited for Jared to break the sudden tension.

Jared took a few small steps forward, until he was hovering over Jensen, but not touching him. There was a look in Jared's eyes that Jensen couldn't decipher, but whatever he saw there made Jensen's breath catch in his chest. When Jared spoke, it sounded raspy and thick. "Sandy was right. You have one hell of a voice." Jensen ducked his head to hide his blush, and when he looked up, whatever he had seen in Jared's eyes had been replaced by a teasing glint. "Still, that song was pretty damn cheesy."

Jensen didn't bother to hold back his answering chuckle. "Says Britney Spears' number one fan. You know you love it. Admit it," he mocked back.

Suddenly, that look was back in Jared's eyes, this time accompanied by Jared's hands on his face so he couldn't look away. "Yeah, I kinda do," he said, voice a low murmur that settled like hot coals in Jensen's belly. Then he pulled Jensen into a soft kiss, and Jensen almost missed the stagehand's call for everyone to head back onstage. In the end, one of the PAs had to pry him away and drag him along with the rest of the crowd.

Fifteen minutes later, Jensen was still reeling as he stood with the other contestants onstage. He didn't even hear it as Fabio announced the names of the top five, and Tom had to nudge him hard in the ribs to get his attention. "Jensen, that's you," he hissed, pointing to the expectant faces of the host and judges. Jensen stumbled his way toward the front of the stage, dazedly taking his place on the empty fourth star. He was only vaguely aware of Tom coming to stand on the fifth star, wearing a smile fit to rival Jensen's. But Jensen's smile had nothing to do with the competition, and everything to do with the tall brunette giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up from the side of the stage.

***

By the time the final interviews began, Jensen's giddy mood had dissolved into panic. This was the last competition before the winners were announced, and Jensen was no closer to figuring out who was behind the potential threat. Jensen still didn't even have reason to believe it was somebody besides Shannon, aside from that persistent feeling in the back of his mind.

Jensen couldn't help fidgeting as he sat onstage in his tux, the pink silk handkerchief Jared had given him peeking out of his jacket pocket. Tom finished his answer as the crowd applauded, and then it was Jensen's turn. Fabio raised the note cards and said in heavily accented English, "Why do you want to be Mr. United States?"

Jensen almost snorted into his microphone at the question. Remembering the way Jared has asked him that same question, he glanced offstage surreptitiously, easily spotting Jared standing a head above the crowd. But Jared wasn't looking back. He was on his cell phone, eyes wide and a little panicked, and Jensen felt his heartbeat speed up in response. Before he could catch Jared's eye, Fabio cleared his throat and said, "Texas?"

Jensen's head whipped around as if startled. The judges and crowd were waiting for his answer, but he didn't have any more of an idea how to answer it now than he did when Jared had first asked the question. Jensen's mind replayed it now, Jared's easy drawl filling his head. _Why do you want to be Mr. United States?_

Heaving a sigh, Jensen decided he was too distracted to come up with a convincing speech to satisfy the judges, and that left him with only one option: tell the truth. After all, opening up had worked for him so far, hadn't it?

"Honestly, I don't." The audience lit up with a shocked murmur of whispers, but Jensen continued. "The truth is, I wasn't thrilled with the idea of entering this pageant. But then I came here, and I met all these great guys..." Jensen trailed off, feeling an almost unconscious smile spread across his face at the thought of Jared. "Well, one guy in particular. He showed me how to open up, to let people see me, and now I feel like for the first time in my life I'm right where I belong. So no, I don't want to be Mr. United States, because I feel like I've already accomplished so much. All I want now is for these guys to be happy." He clapped Tom heartily on the back and the crowd started to applaud, but Jensen wasn't finished. Seeing his opportunity to issue a warning, just in case the culprit was still out there, Jensen lowered his voice to a commanding rumble and added, "And if anything—_anything_—happened to these guys, I would make sure the person responsible had a world of hurt coming for them. I would make them suffer so much, they'd wish they were never born. And if they ran, I would hunt them down and make them pay."

The crowd was completely silent, and it took several moments for Fabio to recover enough from his shock to offer up an unsteady smile and a shaky, "Erm, thank you, Texas."

The audience applauded hesitantly, and Jensen glanced to the side of the stage to check on Jared. He found himself gripping the sides of his chair to keep from rushing offstage in a panic, because when he looked up, Jared had vanished.

***

Jensen remained onstage while the judges tallied their scores. Even though Jensen knew only a few minutes had passed, it felt like hours. Jared was gone, and Jensen had no idea what had happened to him. There was still the possibility of a crazy person on the loose with plans to hurt anyone involved with the pageant, and if something big started going down then Jensen wouldn't know how to find Jared and get him to safety. Of course, that was assuming Jared wasn't already in danger. Jensen balled his hands into fists and concentrated all of his energy on not running off the stage in search of Jared.

"Ladies and gentleman, we have the results," Fabio announced, taking the stage. "Would the contestants please step forward?"

Jensen took his place on the stage along with the other contestants, but his mind was a million miles away. He felt like he was missing something. He was sure of it.

While Fabio announced the runners up, Jensen frantically wracked his brain for any and all possible suspects. If something was going to happen, he was running out of time, and Jared was _missing_, and he couldn't focus, dammit!

Before he knew it, Fabio had already announced the fifth, fourth, and third runners up. With a detached kind of shock, Jensen realized he and Tom were the only two left. The next name announced would be the winner, and Jensen was no closer to figuring out who might spring an attack at any moment. He fidgeted with his tie, smoothed out his jacket, and finally put his hands in his pockets to keep them still. His fingers brushed against something cool and metallic, and he realized it was the lighter Jared had found in Shannon's dressing room. It must have somehow ended up in his pocket after Jensen snatched it away from him at the scene.

Something essential clicked into place in Jensen's mind. He pulled the silver zippo from his pocket, noticing for the first time that there was something engraved on it. It was two letters, possibly initials. He held it up and read the letters more closely. "T.W." Jensen felt his heart drop to his stomach. _Tom Welling._

Jensen's gaze fixed on Tom like a laser point, but Tom continued to smile into the crowd, oblivious. Fabio was about to announce the winner of the pageant, and Jensen had already taken a half step towards Tom when the impossible happened: Jared ran out onstage.

He stopped about ten feet from Jensen, his eyes wide, like he didn't even know what he'd planned to do next. Meanwhile, the crowd erupted in shocked applause, doing its best to shout the plaster down from the ceiling.

Jared fidgeted restlessly as he looked at Jensen, then Tom, then Fabio. Biting his lip in a look that Jensen recognized as deep thought, Jared's confusion seemed to abruptly clear and he made his way towards the host. He plastered on an easy smile that Jensen noticed did nothing to cover up the sheer panic in his eyes. Grabbing the microphone and envelope from Fabio's stunned hands, Jared turned to address the audience. "Howdy, y'all," he said, and the crowd responded with a cheer that Jensen was sure made the walls shake. Once they'd calmed to a dull roar that almost drowned out the ringing in Jensen's ears, Jared continued, "Hope y'all don't mind, but I thought maybe you'd let a hometown boy do the honors." He held up the envelope and the audience cheered again. Jensen was tempted to check if his ears were bleeding. He was pretty sure a woman in the front row had passed out. Jensen would have found the whole spectacle irritatingly humorous if he wasn't so terrified. Jared slanted him a sideways look, then did the same to Tom, and something in his expression turned Jensen's stomach into ten pounds of cold lead. Yep, Jensen was definitely terrified.

Jared turned his attention back to the envelope and pulled out the card. "And the first ever Mr. United States is…" He paused dramatically, reading the card once silently. He paused, shot Jensen an indecipherable glance, then said clearly into the mic, "Mr. Kansas, Tom Welling."

For a second, Tom was so utterly shocked he stood rooted to the spot. Then the stage attendants came to drape the "Mr. United States" sash over Tom's shoulder and hand him the gold statue, and Tom was faltering his way to the front of the stage. The band began playing the pageant theme song, and confetti rained down from the ceiling.

Jensen's first instinct was to rush the front of the stage and tackled Tom to the ground, but then Jared's voice was right in his ear, agitated and loud even in the noisy cheers of the crowd. "Jensen, it's Tom."

"I know."

"Yeah, he—wait, how did you know?"

"It was his lighter we found at the scene," Jensen said, not taking his eyes off of Tom, who was busy receiving his congratulations. "And I'm guessing he slept with Shannon so he could somehow sneak into her dressing room and plant the evidence." With a start, he turned surprised eyes on Jared. "Wait, how did _you_ know?"

"Sandy called. She said after she went back to Dallas, she did a background check on all the contestants. Tom's a member of some radical men's rights group. He was investigated a couple of years ago when somebody tried to burn down the building where Playgirl is published, but they could never prove anything, so he wasn't charged."

"Dammit! I should have known that guy's a pyro. Seriously, _flaming batons!_"

"That's not even the worst part, Jensen. I went and looked, and there's some sort of homemade bomb or something under the stage." Jensen's stomach dropped. Bombs were never good, but they were especially bad when there was no bomb squad handy to defuse them. Looking at Jensen with wide eyes, Jared asked, "What do we do?"

Almost as one, they turned to look at Tom. A half-second later, Tom pulled something out of his pocket: a small remote with one red, flashing button. Jared and Jensen exchanged panicked looks, and then simultaneously rushed the stage. Tom never saw them coming.

They both slammed into Tom at the same time, tackling him to the ground in a many-limbed heap and sending the detonator skittering across the stage floor. Tom rolled away, and Jensen made a mad grab for his shirt collar. They rolled across the floor, grabbing at clothing and scratching at faces. All around them was chaos. Confetti was flying, the music was still playing, and the audience was shouting. Jensen was pretty sure he heard Fabio yell, "Catfight!" He lost sight of Jared in the confusion. Tom twisted and got the upper hand, jabbing an elbow into Jensen's face. He recoiled and Tom sprang away. Jensen recovered in time to see Jared scrambling across the stage towards the detonator, Tom close on his heels. Tom raised his trophy high above his head, drawing closer behind Jared. Jensen's heart jumped in his chest. He didn't think he'd ever moved so fast in his life. He dove through the air and grabbed Tom around the waist, sending them both flying. Jared was clipped by the flying tackle, sending him sprawling in the other direction, and right on top of the detonator.

That's when the stage blew up.

***

"We'll have him shipped to county lock up until we can get him in a federal prison," A.D. Morgan said, shaking Jensen's hand. "Nice work, Ackles. Remind me to trust your gut more in the future."

"Yes, sir," Jensen said, trying to appear professional. If he looked anything like Jared, he was pretty sure his face was smudged with ash and there was sparkly confetti in his hair. Plus, he could feel a black eye developing from when he'd been hit with Tom's elbow.

Sandy walked by, escorting a handcuffed Tom to the waiting squad car. Tom appeared to be in the middle of a very heated rant. "Don't you realize what you've done? You're contributing to the oppression of men everywhere! This is just one more step in the exploitation of—"

"Yeah, yeah," Sandy replied blandly. "You can burn your jockstrap in protest when you get to jail," she said, opening the door and shoving Tom inside, slamming the door on his continued tirade. "Guy's got a serious shot at the insanity plea," she said, coming to stand with the small group.

Morgan smiled, then cast a meaningful look between Jensen and Jared. "Y'know, I think I'll head back to Dallas and get started on the paperwork. Why don't you and McCoy take a few days off? I think you've earned it." Sandy and Jensen both chorused their surprised thank yous. "And that goes for you too, Padalecki. Feel free to stick around for a while. I'll make sure the FBI covers your expenses. Consider it our way of saying thanks."

Jared smiled and exchanged a sidelong look with Jensen. He tried not to make it obvious to his boss how thrilled he was the thought of spending the next few days lounging around with Jared, but it was hard to hide his blush with Jared looking at him like that. Judging by Morgan's knowing grin, it was a lost cause, anyway.

Once Morgan had gotten into the squad car to escort Tom to lock up, it was just the three of them and the zoo of excited contestants and press. "Dammit," Sandy said, watching the police car roll away. "Why are the hot ones all either gay, taken, or crazy?"

Jensen tried not to smile at her adorable, pouting face, and Jared leaned over to whisper. "I'm pretty sure Mr. California is straight. And single."

Sandy's eyes lit up and glanced in the direction Jared was pointing. Jensen looked as well, spotting a tall blonde guy he vaguely thought might be named Justin.

"Oh. I'll just be…verifying his statement," she said, already walking away. "Don't wait up," she called over her shoulder.

Jensen scowled at the guy, suddenly feeling protective. Jared let him glare for a minute before jabbing him in the side with one long, bony finger. "Relax, Jensen. She'll be fine." He smirked, pulling their bodies close. "If it makes you feel any better, you can run a background check on the guy later. Right now, you have more important things to do."

Jensen blinked up at him in confusion. The pageant was over, the bad guy had been caught, what else was left to do? "Like what?" Jensen prompted.

Jared leaned down to press an almost chaste kiss against Jensen's lips that left him a bit light headed. "I seem to recall promising to let you top," he whispered, backing away with a wicked grin. With a wink, he added, "Bring your handcuffs." Jared was already several yards away when Jensen's legs finally decided to respond, and he ran to catch up, calculating the time it would take to get back to the hotel. He wondered if it would be abuse of authority to request a police escort.

***

Jensen awoke the next morning to the feeling of strong arms around his waist and light kisses peppering the back of his neck and shoulders. Groaning into his pillow, Jensen mumbled, "If you're one of those stupidly upbeat morning people who insists on getting up before six on our day off, I will _shoot you_."

Jared settled his chin in the crook of Jensen's neck. "I made you coffee."

Jensen opened one eye to squint at the cup of steaming hotel coffee setting next to the clock that read 6:02. "I take it back. This relationship is definitely going to work."

Jared chuckled softly into the skin behind Jensen's ear, then shifted groggily as Jensen moved to sit up against the headboard. He eventually settled his face somewhere in the vicinity of Jensen's hip. Jensen reached one hand out to thread his fingers through Jared's sleep mussed hair, and the other hand reached for the cup of coffee. He had it all the way to his lips before he realized there was a piece of folded paper stuck to the bottom, and he reluctantly removed his hand from Jared's hair to investigate.

The top fold had a fancy, embossed seal that Jensen recognized as the logo for the Mr. United States Pageant. When he flipped the paper open, he saw his own name written in elaborate calligraphy. Frowning as his undercaffeinated brain attempted to put the pieces together, he glanced down at Jared. "What's this?"

"Huh?" Jared looked up from where he seemed to be studiously considering the ramifications of pulling down the sheet wrapped around Jensen's waist. "Oh, that. It's the announcement that says you won. I saved it for you."

Jensen blinked. He looked at the card, then back at Jared. "But, I was there. You said Tom won."

Jared laughed and sat up until he was nose to nose with Jensen. "I had to distract him so I could talk to you. I figured as long as he was busy getting his congratulations, it would buy us some time."

Jensen was still struggling to catch up. "So, wait, you're saying I…I _won?_"

Jared smiled and took Jensen's face in his hands. "Fair and square, all on your own." Jensen still couldn't believe it, but when he felt Jared's lips press warm and soft against his own, all other thoughts fell away. He lost himself in the kiss until Jared pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he said, "So, I know you won't wear pink, but how do you feel about a tiara?"

Jensen groaned and pulled Jared's laughing face back down into another fierce kiss. Jared was annoying, outrageous, and had made it his personal crusade to get Jensen to wear sparkly pink rhinestones, but he also made Jensen happier than he'd ever felt. Jared loved him, inside and out, and that was all he'd ever wanted.

Well, besides world peace.

~End~

~~~~~~~~~~  
Additional author's notes: Wow, folks. This fic kinda got away from me as far as word count goes. The only other completed J2 I've ever done is just under 2000 words. This is over 23,000. Yikes.

Major thanks to [](http://melagan.livejournal.com/profile)[**melagan**](http://melagan.livejournal.com/) for audiencing this monster and putting up with my panicked whining over both this and the grad school applications I was frantically trying to finish at the same time. You are an awesome enabler, hon, and you deserve fifteen pounds of virtual chocolate and lots of porn. My porn-fu is kinda broken, but I tried! *g*

I apologize for any mistakes I may have made, but I didn't have time to get this beta'd. If you find any mistakes, please let me know! FYI, I'm also signed up for [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_j2_bigbang/profile)[**spn_j2_bigbang**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_j2_bigbang/), and I would really love a good beta for that story. It's a J2 AU, 20,000 words or more, and I'm willing to send the story to you in parts or all at once, depending on your preference. I can guarantee at least a month of beta time before the deadline. If anyone is interested, please email me at ras.elased_star at yahoo dot com. Thanks! ♥

_   
**Miss(ter) Congeniality, (3/3)**   
_


	4. Miss(ter) Congeniality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they're not called pageants, they're called "scholarship programs." After a coalition of fraternities sued the government for equal rights, stating it wasn't fair that pretty girls got to go to college based on their looks without the same benefit for boys, the pageant company was forced to open an 'equal opportunity' all-male pageant. But the backlash was fierce, and now the pageant is receiving threatening letters. They call in the FBI for help, and after assessing the situation, they assign Agent Ackles to go undercover as a pageant contestant. He is less than thrilled with his assignment. Former male model Jared gets hired as the pageant consultant charged with the difficult task of transforming Jensen from rough-around-the-edges FBI agent to GQ coverboy. Between the pampering and strutting and arguing and trying to find a place to conceal his weapon during the swimsuit competition, Jensen starts to realize that they make a good team, and maybe more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/profile)[**abouttwoboys**](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/) J2/SPN fic challenge. The prompt I chose was to remix the movie [Miss Congeniality](http://imdb.com/title/tt0212346/). (obviously *g*) I reworked it a little bit, but the general plot and any lines you recognize are taken from the film. You can also [download](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=WGAUYCSZ) the song mentioned in the fic. (MegaUpload link, but I can upload it somewhere else by request.)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[fandom: cw rps](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fandom%3A%20cw%20rps), [fic: miss(ter) congeniality](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20miss%28ter%29%20congeniality), [genre: au](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20au), [genre: crack](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20crack), [genre: humor](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20humor), [genre: prompt/challenge response](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20prompt%2Fchallenge%20response), [genre: romance](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20romance), [pairing: jared/jensen](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20jared%2Fjensen), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
---|---  
  
  
Title: Miss(ter) Congeniality  
Author: Ras Elased  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Jared/Jensen  
Word count: ~23,000  
Author's notes: This was written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/profile)[**abouttwoboys**](http://community.livejournal.com/abouttwoboys/) J2/SPN fic challenge. The prompt I chose was to remix the movie [Miss Congeniality](http://imdb.com/title/tt0212346/). (obviously *g*) I reworked it a little bit, but the general plot and any lines you recognize are taken from the film. You can also [download](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=WGAUYCSZ) the song mentioned in the fic. (MegaUpload link, but I can upload it somewhere else by request.)  
Warnings: Boykissing, RPS, mild crack, non-CW guest stars, some damn lucky gummy bears, shameless bathroom porn, filk, and unbeta'd.

Summary: So they're not called pageants, they're called "scholarship programs." After a coalition of fraternities sued the government for equal rights, stating it wasn't fair that pretty girls got to go to college based on their looks without the same benefit for boys, the pageant company was forced to open an 'equal opportunity' all-male pageant. But the backlash was fierce, and now the pageant is receiving threatening letters. They call in the FBI for help, and after assessing the situation, they assign Agent Ackles to go undercover as a pageant contestant. He is less than thrilled with his assignment. Former male model Jared gets hired as the pageant consultant charged with the difficult task of transforming Jensen from rough-around-the-edges FBI agent to GQ coverboy. Between the pampering and strutting and arguing and trying to find a place to conceal his weapon during the swimsuit competition, Jensen starts to realize that they make a good team, and maybe more.

_   
**Miss(ter) Congeniality master post**   
_

  


[Part 1](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/12538.html#cutid1) | [Part 2](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/12635.html) | [Part 3](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/12918.html)


End file.
